The Forgotten Tribute
by The Schwa and The Umlaut
Summary: I was forgotten, I was ignored, I was viewed as weak. He remembered me, he noticed me, he saw my strength. I loved him, I will remember him, he will not be ignored. I will be remembered.
1. Chapter 1

The Forgotten Tribute

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Author's Note: So I've decided to take a crack at this idea that has been swimming in my weird mind for quite a while now. Thank you so much for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated especially those with suggestion to improve the story. Enjoy. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling mistakes, I don't have a beta, and for those of you who have read my other stories you know I don't spend a lot of time editing because I just was to get new chapters out ASAP.**

SMACK! Her hand collided with my cheek. I was used to it by now. Almost every day I would take abuse intended for the other children in the District Home. I live in District 12, the coal mining district, the weak district, the forgotten district.

The warden's at the District Home were heartless. The children were neglected and abused. I had lived here my entire life. I never had a childhood, but then again no one in District 12 did. All of us had to grow up fast to survive. We all had to endure hunger and pain.

There were always people like me at the District Home. People who would take on the responsibility of caring for the kids and being the parent they never had. That was me and my friend, Logan.

Logan was kind and compassionate. I mostly just protected and provided. Together we had kept the kids alive. We would find food for them, and we would go hungry. We never did anything for ourselves.

I glared at the warden who hit me, while holding the little girl behind me.

"Make sure she never steals from us again," demanded the warden.

"If you fed us this wouldn't happen," I retorted.

"You be careful what you say Moore," she sneered. "It could get you in trouble someday."

"I'll take my chances." I stared at her until she disappeared around a corner.

"Are you alright?" cried the girl behind me.

"I'm fine Lilly," I forced a smile and pulled her into a hug. "But you have to promise me that you take food from the kitchen again. Okay?"

"I promise," Lilly assured me. She had bright blue eyes that still had hope in them. My eyes were a dark brown and filled with sorrow and pain, but no fear. I couldn't be afraid, I always had to be brave.

I took Lilly back to the nursery, and when I was sure that she was okay I walked down the hall to meet Logan. I found him helping one of the thirteen year olds with her homework.

"Hey," he said when he saw me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, you have a minute?" I asked. Logan quickly finished explaining something to the girl and rushed off with me. Holding my hand we ran up to the attic. It was our place. The one place where we could be ourselves. Where we could talk. The one place we felt safe.

"What happened?" he inquired.

"A warden caught Lilly stealing some bread from the garbage," I explained rubbing my stinging cheek.

"How hard did she hit you?"

"It's not the worst I've had, but it's definitely going to leave a mark."

"Are you nervous?" he questioned.

"About what?"

"The reaping," Logan answered. "District 12 is the one required to submit an extra tribute this year, that means there's an even higher chance that you or I will get picked."

"I know, but we always have a high chance of getting reaped. I mean, I can't even remember how many times our names were put in to get tesseraes for everyone," I replied.

"True, but we've gotten lucky six years in a row it's bound to happen sometime," he argued.

"We can still get lucky again. Besides even if we are chosen what difference is it going to make? We're probably going to die soon anyway," I countered.

"You don't know that," he scolded.

"Are you kidding me?" I exclaimed. "I haven't eaten in three days, and neither have you. And when we do we only get a half slice of bread, if that!"

"But Claire," he began. "We'll be out of here in less than a year. We could start over, we could have a family."

"Logan, no matter what we do we're always going to be miserable. We'll always be poor and hungry. And no one wants to marry a girl from the Home. You see how we're treated at school," I complained.

"Do you have to be so goddamn negative all the time?"

"It's not like I have anything to be happy about," I grumbled.

"What about me?" he asked.

"What about you?"

"I care about you. I don't want you to die," he confessed.

"Logan, you know I don't like you that way."

"I know, I don't either. But that's not what I meant. You're like my sister, Claire. And you can be happy, just try. Here, take this," he shoved small package into my hand.

"What is it?"

"I was going to give it to you after the reaping tomorrow," explained Logan. When I opened it I saw a brand new knife.

"How did you get this?" I interrogated.

"I swiped it from the Hob," he smirked at the smile on my face. "I knew it would make you happy."

"It's fantastic!" I exclaimed. I had taught myself how to throw knives when I was twelve. Then I was determined that if I was chosen for the Hunger Games I would win, so I stole a knife from the kitchen and started throwing. I wasn't any good until I was fifteen, and now, three years later, I was phenomenal.

"You want to try it out, don't you?" he sighed.

"You bet," I confirmed. Grudgingly, he stood against the wall. I flipped the knife in the air a few times and in one motion I sent the knife soaring through the air. With a thud in was embedded in the wall just a centimeter from Logan's ear.

"Still got it," he joked as he plucked my knife out and handed it to me.

"You bet," I agreed. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"It's alright, I understand," he assured me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, favorited, and followed. I really hope you enjoy this next chapter. As always, suggestions to help me improve the story are greatly appreciated. (and true to his name, Peeta will still be The Boy With the Bread)**

The next morning I looked into the mirror and saw that my cheek had become a light shade of purple. I pulled my hair off my face, grabbed my knife, and ran out of the building.

The Seam was particularly quiet today. It always was on Reaping Day. Since it was considered a holiday no one had to go into the mines so the morning was always spent with family. I preferred to be alone. People would always take pity on me on Reaping Day. Everyone knew where I came from and how huge the chance was that I would be going into the arena. No one would admit it, but I always feel that they want it to be me instead of their children. I understood, I had no family, and not many people would miss me.

I slipped under the fence that separated District 12 from the forest. As I was walking into the woods I saw another girl. I raised my knife defensively and she raised her bow. It was Katniss, once she recognized me she continued on.

I always saw Katniss when I went out. In some respects I was jealous of her. She only had two other people to feed, I had hundreds. She had a partner, and I hunted alone. For a while I thought that we might join forces, but we both knew that I couldn't give up anything that I caught. Once, I brought Logan out, but he couldn't hunt even if his life depended on it.

I made my way to a lake deep in the woods. With only my knife to hunt with most game was impossible to catch. That's why I fished. I grabbed my crudely made spear from behind a tree and waded into the water.

I could spear fish with deadly accuracy. A girl who lived at the home a few years ago had taught me. She was even better than me. One time she caught enough fish for everyone at the home to have one. I always looked up to her. I thought she was invincible. She wasn't.

When she was eighteen she was a tribute. She died on the first day, just another forgotten tribute.

By the time I was ready to leave I had fifteen fish with me. When I went back into the Seam a few people were out. Suddenly, I heard a voice calling my name, "CLAIRE!"

I looked around and saw a blonde haired boy running towards me.

"Morning Peeta," I said when I saw him. Peeta was two years younger than me, but he was my friend. He was one of the only people who would pay attention to me at school. Like everyone he knew what I went through, but unlike the others he treated me like anyone else.

"My dad told me to give you these," he handed me two old loaves of bread.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"Yes, he told me to give them to you," he explained.

"Tell him that the entire District Home thanks him!" I exclaimed and started to run back to the Home with an extra spring in my step. People had given me things before on Reaping Day, but never had I received anything this generous.

"And Claire," he called again.

"Yes."

"Good luck," Peeta said. "I know you need it."

"You too," I replied. With one last smile I was gone. As soon as I reached the Home I burst into the attic to see Logan.

"You won't believe what I got!" I exclaimed.

"What?" he asked. As I showed him the bread and fish his jaw dropped.

"Is this bread from the bakery?"

"Peeta gave it to me," I stated.

"I always knew I liked that kid," he laughed. I ripped off two small chunks of the bread and tossed one to him.

"Mmm," we moaned as we bit into the bread. It was only starting to get stale. If we were ever lucky enough to get the baker's bread, it usually had mold on it, but this was completely clean.

"Claire, you have to promise me something," Logan said.

"What?"

"If you get reaped you have to eat all the capitol food you can," he proposed.

"Even if I wasn't promising you, I would," I joked. We spent another hour just talking. It was our Reaping Day tradition. Since it was extremely likely one of us would be in the capitol in just a day's time.

After I had finished getting ready I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a plaid greyish brown dress. It only reached my knees. The warden's gave us their old reaping outfits and we all shared them, but this was my favorite. I had worn it since I was fifteen. My dark brown hair hung down, reaching just a few inches past my shoulders; Reaping Day was the only time that I let my hair down.

I almost looked pretty. My hollow cheeks, sorrowful eyes and the dark circles under them prevented me from achieving pretty, but in another life I could have been beautiful.

I looked around at the other girls in the dormitory, braiding hair and comparing dresses. It made me smile, no matter what the circumstances were, girls would always be girls. I wiped a tear from my cheek.

If I made it through the reaping, I would only have a year left here before I had to leave the Home. I would miss them, I was scared for them. I wouldn't be there to comfort them when they had nightmares, or tell them they were beautiful, and that I loved them. I had faith that one of the girls would step up and take my place, but the whole purpose of my life had been protecting them and without that I would be empty.

I told myself to stop thinking about it, when Loretta, a girl who would most likely take my place when I left, came up to me.

"You look really nice," she stated.

"You too," I replied, and she started to cry. "Hey, hey what's wrong?"

"I took out a tesserae," she confessed. "I know you don't want anyone to but I had to… I had to."

"It's okay, It's okay," I comforted, it's true I don't want anyone besides Logan and myself to take out tesseraes but I wouldn't be angry if they did. "Listen, you did what you thought you had to do. I get it you want to help them."

She was still crying, "I just don't want to go into the arena. I'm only fourteen, I could never win."

"Loretta, if you get chosen I will volunteer for you," I promised.

"But you said yourself they we can't volunteer," she protested.

"No, I said no one can volunteer for me, I would always volunteer for one of you," I assured her. "Now stop crying you have to look pretty today."

I smiled at her and wiped her tears away. She threw her arms around me and pulled me into a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Slowly, we all walked out to the square where we'd be separated into different lines depending on our age. I waited patiently in the line for registration. When I got to the front they jerked my hand toward them and stabbed my finger to get some blood.

After I reclaimed my hand, I jogged over to the other eighteens. I found Logan and he took my hand. There we stood waiting for Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, to begin her long speech.

It was the same as every year; explaining how the Hunger Games was a punishment for when the Districts rebelled years ago. I didn't care. Like most people I hated the Capitol with a passion. They live in luxury while we starve and freeze to death. They watch us bleed out for entertainment. I wish there was something I could do. Something I could do to show them that they can't control everything, but if I did I would be killed and so would everyone at the Home and I could never risk that.

"Now welcome to the 74th Hunger Games, may the odds be ever in your favor!" Effie exclaimed. "Lady's first."

She reached her gloved hand into a glass bowl. I held my breath. Over a hundred of the names in there were mine. It seems impossible to me that the name she pulls will not be mine. Making a big show of it, she plucks a piece of paper out of the glass bowl and reads it.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

"NO!" cries a voice. Primrose Everdeen. Katniss' little sister. I barely knew her and even though I feel some relief that it isn't me, I feel completely awful. Prim knew me. She had befriended some of the younger girls in the Home and was a joy to be with. It was common knowledge that her father had been killed in a mining accident, but she was still cheerful.

"I VOLUNTEER!" screamed the same voice I heard ago. Katniss Everdeen runs up to take Prim's place on the stage. Prim is screaming and sobbing for her sister. Everyone is crying. Everyone knew the sisters. Everyone knows that they mean the world to each other, even just witnessing this is heartbreaking.

I feel someone push through the eighteens' section, and Gale goes on stage and pries Prim away from Katniss. Effie complains about there being protocols for this sort of things, but she lets it go.

"And what's your name," she asks.

"Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet that was your sister, wasn't it?"

"Yes." I can see the hate boiling behind Katniss' eyes.

"Now onto the boys," Effie says and reaches that same retched hand into the second glass bowl. "Peeta Mellark!"

Peeta, I watch him make his way up to the stage. No one volunteers. Everyone is silent.

"And now, this is a very special year for District Twelve." Effie explains. "This year District Twelve has been selected to bring forth another tribute."

Ceremoniously, she dumps the two bowls into another, larger one.

"And now our third and final tribute…"

I hold my breath and squeeze Logan's hand even tighter. My heart is about to pound right out of my chest. If neither Logan's nor my name is pulled out we will never be tributes.

"Claire Moore!"

And my heart drops.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed, it really means a lot to me. Special thanks to EmmaMellark97 who gave me some great compliments on my characters.**

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the other eighteens and make my way to the stage. Peeta gives me a reassuring look and I return it. I knew this would happen. It's still a miracle that Logan wasn't also chosen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, and Claire Moore District 12's tributes in the 74th Hunger Games!" Effie cheers. No one claps. No one cheers. The only noise I hear is the occasional sob. Slowly, District 12's citizens raised three fingers, place them to their lips and back to us.

The gesture is a sign of respect in our district. The sight of it brings tears to my eyes. I don't try to block them out. I don't care about looking weak; I know that I barely have a chance of surviving the games. Besides, I would much prefer if Katniss or Peeta won. They have a life in front of them. If I win, I'd go back and have everything I could ever want, but no one to share it with. I don't want that.

After a few minutes the peace keepers lead us into the Justice Building to say our final goodbyes. The three of us are directed into separate rooms.

My first visitor is Logan.

"Claire," he says as he wraps his arms around me.

"Logan," I reply. I will miss him the most; he was like my brother, my partner in crime, my family.

"You forgot this," he pulls away and hands me a necklace.

"Thank you." The necklace is a simple chain with a silver dolphin ring on it. It was my mother's wedding ring. It is the only thing I have from my parents.

"I really thought that we could do it," he sobs.

"So did I," I lie.

"What's your plan?" he asks.

"Die quickly," I answer.

"You're not even going to try?"

"Why would I?" I retort.

"Because people will miss you!" protests Logan. "You saw what the people did, when was the last time they ever did that for a tribute? We could have a victor this year."

"Okay, you know what? I do have a plan. I'm going to be selfish for once in my life. When I'm in the Capitol I'll eat and sleep and do anything I want. I'll let it all go and for once try to enjoy myself. Fuck it, maybe I'll win, but either way I don't care Logan. I don't care," I rant. And I mean it, I'm finally going to do something for myself, and I'm going to enjoy it.

"Don't give up too easily, please, for me," he begs.

"I'll give 'em a good fight, alright?"

"Alright," he agrees.

"On one condition," I interject.

"Anything."

"You take care of the kids, and when you're out have a family, and try to be happy," I repeat what he said a night before.

"I will," he promised.

"One more thing."

"What?" he asks.

"Don't forget me," I plead.

"I never could," he bends down and kisses my forehead. As he walks out he waves goodbye.

My next visitor is Loretta.

"Oh Claire," she runs up to me and hugs me.

"It's okay Loretta," I assure her.

"What are we going to do at the Home without you?" she cries.

"Loretta, I need to ask you to do something for me," I say. "I need you to take my place at the Home. I need you to protect the kids back there; I know you can do that. You are so kind and caring, and those kids will be so lucky to have you look after them."

"I promise."

"Thank you so much. Logan can help you, but you need to be really strong."

"I will," she promises. "I'm going to miss you so much!" I give her one last hug before she leaves. She never asked me to come home, she never asked me to win. She knew I wasn't planning on coming home.

I was positive that I wouldn't have any more visitors, but to my surprise the warden who had hit me just a day ago walked in.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask.

"I wanted to apologize for hitting you," she says.

"Then why did you hit me in the first place?" I confront her.

"You don't know how hard it is to be me."

"I don't know?" I yell. "I don't know? Do you know what I do for those kids? I let you hit me instead of them, I starve for those kids! I have never done anything for myself! Ever! What the fuck have you done?"

"I came here to tell you what I always tell tributes from the Home," she states. "Forget about us, forget about the Home, and forget about this part of your life. I know you, Moore, you could win this. If you lose, it's not because you were weak or that someone was stronger, it's because you chose to. You could do something important, I know you can." "What do you mean by that?" I counter.

She walks towards me 'till she is only inches from my face and whispers into my ear, "You could change this."

And without another word she leaves. Her visit has left me more shaken up than before.

A peace keeper comes in and leads me onto the train that will take us to the Capitol. The inside was beautiful, the carpets were red and the walls were made of dark wood. The furniture was made out of brown leather. There was a certain warmth to the room that made you feel at home. Even though I knew the train was leading me to my death the place felt comforting.

"What do you think?" Effie asks.

"It's really nice," I reply.

"Wait 'till you see your room," she leads me down a hallway and into a room with golden wallpaper. The carpeting was cream colored, the furniture was made out of shiny wood, and the bead sheets were off-white in color.

"There are some new clothes in the dresser if you want to change," explains Effie. "I'll call you when dinner is ready."

I shift through the clothes and find a comfortable looking shirt and jeans. For the first time it really hit me that I was going to die. I most likely had less than a month to live. Part of me was still okay with death, but the other part wanted to go back to District 12. It was selfish, but I wanted to be remembered, and I wanted to praised.

All my life I stood in the back ground. I was forgotten and abused. I hated it. I wanted to be special. This was my chance, and I was going to take it. I could win, and I wanted to. And I would.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**I have been so happy at how fast I've been able to write this. It usually takes me at least a whole week to write a chapter, but I wrote chapter three in just two days! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting! A little bonus for you guys, I have an instagram where I post pictures to go along with the story including Claire's reaping dress and her costume for the Parade of Tributes. My instagram name is zombielollipop321 Don't ask why.**

Food. That is the only thing I see when I enter the dining car. There is so much food. Soups, salads, pastas, different meats, and so many desserts. I have never seen so much food in my entire life!

"Is this all for us?" I ask.

"Yes, of course it is," Effie answers. I know that if I eat all of this it will just come right back up, but I promised Logan that I would eat everything, and I am going to keep that promise. I pile my plate with everything I can get my hands on.

I eat as politely as I can, but with the mountain of food in front of me it's nearly impossible.

A crash causes me to look up and see a drunken man staggering into the dining car. It's Haymitch, the only victor from District 12 who is still alive. He knocks over another plate of food as he sits down.

No wonder District 12 never has any victors. How could anyone win with him mentoring them? I glance at Peeta and Katniss. They look disgusted with him as well.

I am the first to speak, "How the hell did you ever win?"

"Claire!" Effie exclaims, any respect she had for me is now gone.

"I survived and I recommend that you do the same," Haymitch retorts.

"And how do we do that?" asks Peeta.

"You don't get killed," states Haymitch.

"You're not exactly being helpful…at all," I reply.

"I know," he smirks. I glare at him. If any one of us wins it will not be because of him. We finish the rest of our food and go to watch the Reapings.

Certain tributes stand out to me: the two Careers from District 2, a small but clever looking girl from District 5, a girl, who must be only twelve years old, from 11, and a strong looking boy also from 11. The boy from District 11 sticks out the most. Even though, his massive appearance makes him look intimidating, you can see that when the camera pulls up to his face his eyes are not cold or ruthless, but gentle.

For some reason I'm drawn to him, I don't know why. I wonder about him. What was he thinking when he got reaped? Does he think he can win? Does he want to?

I go back to my room and get ready for bed. The shower was amazing! Back at the home we had one shower that dripped cold, rusty water onto us. But this one has shower heads coming out from all angles. There are buttons to control the temperature and to shoot soap at me. I lay down in bed with my wet hair draping over the pillow.

I try to fall sleep, but the boy from 11 keeps popping into my head. Why? It drives me insane. I'm riding a train to my impending doom, where I will be mercilessly killed on live television, possibly by him. It makes no sense. Why I'm thinking of him?

I think of Logan, and the other children at the Home, anything to get him out of my head. It works. I think of all the times Logan and I spent together. My twelfth birthday when he got me my first knife. When I was fifteen and accidently nicked his shoulder when I was practicing with my knives. When he stepped in front of me to keep me from getting hit again by a warden.

Was it possible that I loved him? No, the thought of us together like that didn't make sense to me at all. I had known him since birth it seemed, and our relationship had never even hinted that way.

Then it hit me. I will never see Logan again. I broke down. I was sobbing and screaming. I missed him. This was the first time in my entire life that I had been alone. He had always been there for me, like any brother would. That night I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning Effie was knocking on my door and yelling at me to get dressed. I grabbed a red shirt and black jeans and went out to see what they had for breakfast.

I had just finished eating my plate of eggs benedict when we pulled up to the Capitol. It was fantastic! Even though I hated the place, there was no denying that it was beautiful and not looking at it would be a crime. Katniss, Peeta, and I rushed to the window to look at the buildings. Capitol citizens flocked the streets to try to get a look at us.

They were so weird looking. There were people with pink, purple, and lime green hair. Some of them had skin that was tinted with different colors.

We pulled up to the Training Center and went inside. The walls were made out of metal and the floor a cold tile.

"I'm going to take you to your prep teams and they will get you ready for Parade of Tributes. I'm sure you'll look stunning," piped Effie as she leads us into the elevator and up to the twelfth floor.

All of this is becoming overwhelming, people telling me where to go every moment of the day. I have never even touched makeup let alone had an entire team of people apply it to me.

When we get to the top floor there's a group of people waiting for us, as we walk out they squeal and start jabbering about themselves and how excited they are to meet us. I can barely understand any of it, but when I look over at Peeta and Katniss they are both trying to suppress laughter as well.

We separate and my prep team takes me to a large white room with a large bathtub filled to the brim with a bubbly liquid and a large salon chair that sat in the middle of the room.

They instruct me to soak in the tub for fifteen minutes. The warm water feels good on my skin, but the oils make me feel slimy and uncomfortable. Throughout the entire time the prep team will not shut up. It starts driving me insane. They talk like I'm not even there.

The next hour is spent waxing my body, which hurts like hell, washing and cutting my hair, and painting my finger and toe nails.

"How's she doing," says a new voice.

"She's just about ready for you Cynthia."

"You do know I'm right here, you don't need to talk about me in the third person," I gripe.

"Sorry," apologizes the new voice. I get up and am draped in a white, fluffy robe. The new voice is a beautiful woman; she doesn't look like the other Capitol people. She wears a thin layer of gold eyeliner, her clothing is skintight and black, and her hair is shiny, black, and partially pulled off of her face.

"I'm Cynthia," she extends her hand to me.

I take it and reply, "Claire, nice to meet you."

"You're all dismissed," she waves her hand and the prep team leaves. "I hope they weren't too rude to you, they can be a little inconsiderate sometimes."

"I'll get over it," I reply.

"So as you know tonight is the Parade of Tributes. This is your chance to get the attention of sponsors. In my opinion this is the most important stage of you time here," explains Cynthia. "I am going to make you look stunning, not just in beauty. Beauty is overrated, I want you to be remembered, so that when people see you the first thing that pops into their head is 'Wow she looks powerful.' I can already tell that you are a strong girl-"

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"I watched your reaping, when your name was called you didn't scream or cry, the only time you shed a tear was when you stood on that stage and I could tell it wasn't because you weren't scared."

"Very observant."

"Now, my brother, Cinna, is Katniss' stylist. He is going to do something spectacular, but we are going to outdo him," she gives me a smile. "Now the Capitol chooses an extra tribute each year to represent District 13, which was destroyed during the Dark Ages. That tribute is still part of their district but during the Parade they represent 13. Most of the costumes are based on what 13 used to be you are going to be what District 13 has become. Are you ready?"

"Yes," I answer.

"Then let's get started."

Cynthia grabs a dress bag and reveals a black gown that has sleeves that will drape over my hands. The dress looks like it's made out of spider webs that had been layered on top of each other. I step into it and we begin applying makeup.

I watch Cynthia as she concentrate on my makeup, her eyes become hard and she purses her lips. An hour later she places me in front of a mirror.

I look stunning. My face, neck, and hands are painted a greyish white. My hair is piled on top of my head. A chain headdress is placed on my head, it drapes down to a piece of metal that lies on my nose. My lips are an icy blue and my eyes are encircled with dark blacks, blues, and reds. Lines are drawn on my face to accent my sharp features.

"What do you think?" inquires Cynthia.

"I haven't seen what Katniss is wearing but I am sure that you have outdone your brother," I answer.

"There's even more to my vision," she smirks and presses a button, the lights in the room dim and my dress starts to emit a greenish black smoke.

"What the hell," I gasp. Cynthia presses the button again and the lights come back on and the smoke stops.

"Some special effects I cooked up," she laughs. "District 13 is dead so you are going to be the bringer of death itself."

"I'm going to steal the show, aren't I?"

"You bet."

We wait until the very last moment to go down. I arrive just as a man lights Katniss on fire. I scream and a woman grabs me before I attack the man.

"It's not real, it's not going to hurt them," she explains. I relax when Peeta gives me a thumbs up to show me that they're alright.

They depart in a flaming show, and Cinna meanders over to Cynthia and I.

"You've really done yourself out this time," Cynthia compliments him.

"What are you smirking about sis?" he replies.

"You're not the only one who outdid themselves this year," she retorts.

I step onto a black chariot with skeletal looking horses pulling it. I start riding out, the last thing I see before I enter the cheering crowd is Cynthia push the button.

The lights flicker and dim, the cheering people grow silent, and the audience is in awe of me. Mist is pouring out around me and into the isles.

I have them captivated.

I have them in my hand.

I control them.

I am powerful.

I am noticed.

I am death.

And I will not be ignored or forgotten.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Hello again! I'm really happy with the response this story has gotten, so thank you all so much! I really love having writing for you guys so please continue to read and as always I love to hear your feedback!**

"You were fantastic!" exclaims Cynthia.

"You were right I had them in the palm of my hand," I reply.

"I guarantee the sponsors are already lining up," she says. Cinna walks over and clasps Cynthia's shoulder.

"I think you finally outdid me, Cynthia," he praises. He looks proud rather than disappointed; maybe not all of the Capitol citizens are as bad as I thought.

Peeta walks over to me with a big smile on his face, "You look so…"

"Evil, creepy, possessed," I suggest.

"I was going to say disturbing, but that works too," he laughs. "But seriously, how are you?"

"I'm holding up alright. How about you?"

"It's difficult, knowing that I'm not going home again," he sighs.

"Peeta, you don't know that."

"Really? You've seen the other tributes, do you really think we have a chance?" he asks.

"Yes," I answer. "District 12 will have a victor this year."

"How do you know that?"

"The three of us are incredibly strong in so many ways, if we're determined one of us can go home," I insist and he walks towards the elevator.

I'm about to follow him when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I spin around and see a tall man wearing overalls and a crown made of silver wheat.

"Oh, hello," I say awkwardly.

"I just wanted to say that you look incredible," he compliments me.

"Thank you, your outfit is…"I try to find a word to make his outfit seem less awful.

"It's horrible," he says. "But what else can you do with District 11?"

That's who he is; the boy who stood out to me in the Reapings.

"Gosh I'm being rude," I hold out my hand. "I'm Claire."

"Thresh," he shakes me hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Not so nice considering the circumstances," I comment.

"True, but I'm trying not to think about it," Thresh replies.

"How can you do that?"

"I focus on one day at a time. I don't want to spend the last days of my life worrying," he explains.

"That's really admirable," and I mean it, to be faced with death and still go out of your way to meet new people is amazing. I stop myself. What if he's doing this to get on my good side so he can take me down first thing in the arena? "I think I should be going now. It was nice talking to you."

"Nice talking to you too," he waves at me as I make my way to the elevator. The next day we begin training. I need to get my sleep; the last thing I want is to appear weak in front of the other tributes.

As I'm lying in bed I think of Thresh. What was he trying to do tonight? Was he actually trying to trick me into trusting him, or was he trying to form an alliance with me? Most of the time only Careers made alliances, and even if anyone else did, it was with someone from the same district.

"Wakey wakey!" Effie squeals while knocking on my door. I swear to God that I will strangle her. When I get out to our dining area I see Haymitch talking to Katniss and Peeta.

"Nice of you to join us Mrs. Grim Reaper," he says.

"Ha ha ha," I reply sarcastically. "What were you talking about?"

"Haymitch was agreeing to sober up for the Games," Peeta fills me in.

"I'm shocked," I fake a gasp.

"I'm full of surprises," retorts Haymitch.

I grab a plate of eggs and bacon while Haymitch continues talking, "So you two need stick together, it'll be good for your image so don't contradict me. And you Claire, make yourself an ally, but make sure you keep up your intimidating appearance. If you do the Careers should leave you alone for the most part. Now, what can you three do?"

"Katniss can shoot," Peeta blurts. "She's amazing."

"Are you?" inquires Haymitch.

"Yes," answers Katniss.

"Well, what can you do Peeta?"

"I can't really do anything," Peeta admits.

"Yes, you can. I saw him throw a fifty pound bag of flower across a room once," Katniss corrects him.

"I'd say that's something," Haymitch comments. "And you Miss Claire what can you do?"

"I throw knives," I say.

"Really," scoffs Haymitch. "You?"

"What that shocks you?" I smirk. "Here, I'll prove it."

"I'd like to see you try," he mocks. I grab the knife protruding from a ham. After a few practice throws I send the knife soaring into the eye of a painting.

"That is an original!" gasps Effie.

"Sorry," I lie. "So does that qualify as adequate?"

"Absolutely," he answers. After breakfast we head down to the Training Center. The place is even more intimidating than my Death costume. The walls are a dark stainless steel; the floor is black with the occasional red mat. I scan the room and see over fifty stations. They have everything from camouflage to sword fighting, and climbing to hand-on-hand combat.

I stick with Katniss and Peeta at first. I drag them to the knife throwing station. I insist that it could save them in the arena, but the real reason is because if I have to sit through one more lesson on how to tie knots or blend in with dirt I will kill myself before the other tributes even consider it.

"No you're not swinging right Katniss," I guide her arm through the motion yet again.

"She's right, and Claire you need to keep your hand closer to yourself," a voice instructs from behind me. I turn around and see Thresh.

"Excuse me but I believe it was I who was helping her, not you," I do not even try to hide my bitchy tone; nobody and I mean nobody corrects my knife throwing.

"Is that a challenge?" he picks up a knife and approaches me.

"Yes, I do believe it was," I retort.

"I'll go first," Thresh steps in front of me. He throws the knife and it flies into the target. I move in front of him; the top of my head barely reaches his shoulder. His knife landed only a few centimeters away from the center of the bull's-eye.

"Close but no cigar," I say as I take his place.

"You think you can do better?" he asks.

"Damn right I can." Without hesitation I send the knife slicing through the air until it imbeds itself in the center of the bull's-eye. "And I just did."

"How the hell do you do that?" he inquires.

"Well, maybe if you kept the knife a little farther away from yourself you'd know?" I smirk.

"We could use each other out in the arena, you know," he implies.

"What makes you think we'd make a good team?"

"The two of us together, we would be so intimidating we'd scare the living shit out of every tribute, including the Careers," he explains. "So, allies?"

"Allies," I shake his hand and the deal is done.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**I'm so happy that people have been enjoying this story! You all have been spoiled, because I have never been able to write this fast before! Anyone who had read my other fanfiction knows that it usually takes me almost two weeks to write a chapter, but this is practically writing itself. Any who, thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following and enjoy chapter six.**

"So what else can you do?" I ask Thresh.

"I'm very strong," he states.

"Really? I never would have guessed," I say sarcastically.

"I also can tell what kinds of plants are safe to eat," he adds.

"That's good, I'm pretty handy with a spear," I reply.

"Really?" he asks.

"Why does nobody believe anything I say today?" I sigh.

"I'm sorry, it's just you're so tiny…" Thresh apologizes.

"And you're a mountain; now let's move on from that."

Thresh and I spend the rest of the day training together. We make a surprisingly good team. I teach him how to spear fish, and he helps me identify plants. He is stronger than me, but I am faster.

At lunch he and I sit alone.

"So you're from District 12?" he asks.

"Yup."

"What's it like there?"

"Depressing and dusty," I answer. "What about 11?"

"It's alright, nothing special. We don't always get the most food, but for the most part we do alright," he explains.

"Why wouldn't you get enough food? You're the agriculture district?" I inquire.

"Most of it gets shipped to the Capitol. You saw our Reaping; the people weren't fat were they?"

"I guess not." The rest of today's training goes by well.

That night at dinner Haymitch asks us how training went.

"We stuck together all day," informs Katniss.

"Good and you Miss Claire. Did you take my advice?" he smirks.

"Yes, I did," answer.

"Who'd you ally with?"

"A boy from District 11."

"Really?" Haymitch laughs.

"Why the hell is everyone questioning me today?"

"It's just that, well, he's a mountain and you're tiny," Peeta states.

"I know, that already has been established today, now I'm going to bed before I throw a knife into your heads!" I storm out. I don't like this! No one believes in me. They all think I'm weak! No one believes I can win. I'm not even sure if I think I can anymore.

The rest of the week I train with Thresh. Unlike everyone else, he doesn't judge me. He hasn't underestimated me since the spears. He sees my strength. If I get killed I hope he wins, he deserves it. He's not heartless, he has a life in front of him and I hope he gets to live it.

Today is the day we train privately so the Gamemakers can score us. This score could destroy my chances of getting sponsors. I wait in a room with the other tributes.

"Are you nervous?" asks Thresh.

"Yes," I reply. "You?"

"A little, I mean I'm assuming we're going to share sponsor gifts, so if I completely bomb and you do well we can still get something," he answers.

"I don't think it's smart to depend on me," I tell him.

"I think it's a safe bet," he assures me.

"Well, you're the only one."

"No I'm not," he protests. "The Careers have picked on everyone except us, and I don't think that it's because you're with me."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," I reply.

"I'm serious, you scare me sometimes," he admits.

"Believe me that is all my stylist's doing."

"Don't beat yourself up too much," he suggests as his name is called. "And if you don't do better than me I'll be mad."

"Good luck!" I call after him. Now I have to wait in silence. Rue, Peeta, Katniss, and I are the only ones left. No one is talking. Fifteen minutes later Thresh comes out.

"How did you do?" I ask.

"I think I did well," he answers.

"Good, now if I screw up we have your sponsors," I joke.

"You won't screw up," he insists. He's about to walk away, but he turns abruptly and hugs me. I'm not prepared and it completely takes me off guard. After he lets me go he starts to leave.

"Hey! Aren't you going to wish me luck?" I shout after him.

"You don't need it," he calls back. I think about the hug and I get a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. I've never felt this way before. Pushing it out of my mind I go back into the waiting room just in time to see Peeta walk out and Katniss go in.

"How'd you do?" I ask him.

"Fine," he replies.

"Good luck," he says and he leaves. Now I'm alone. I pace around the room anxiously, practice my throw, and worry. Finally, Katniss walks out of the room. Just as I go to ask her how she did she breaks into a run and books it out of there.

Now I'm petrified, if this can make Katniss run away scared, it's bad. I enter the Training Room. It's exactly the same as it has been all week, except the atmosphere is ten times thicker. I look at the Gamemakers, they almost seem scared. What the hell did Katniss do?

Well, whatever she did I have to top it. I go over to the knives and grab a vest that is covered with different kinds of blades. I throw the knives into the bull's-eye. My throws are perfect; I look back at the Gamemakers to see their reaction. Their expressions haven't changed. I'm perfect, but boring. How do I make this entertaining? Suddenly, I get an idea.

"Excuse me," I yell. "I need a volunteer!"

They look at each other confused. To my utter amazement a man with a flaming orange beard stands up, walks down the stairs, and faces me.

"What do I do?" he asks playfully. He thinks I'll chicken out, but I'm not going to.

"Stand against the wall," I order. I was right, as soon as I say that his smile fades away, but he does as I command. If he didn't I'd have made him a coward and his pride outweighs his fear today.

As soon as he gets to the wall I hurl the knives towards him. I do it so quickly he doesn't have time to react. The knives have landed exactly where I wanted them to: one hovers over his head, two on the sides, four framing each arm, and two barely resting on his shoulders.

They are dumbfounded. I slump the vest off, let it drop to the floor, and leave.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Fair warning I wrote this at midnight so at the moment I might think it's amazing, but then when I read it with all of my brain working I could realize that it is the worst thing I've ever written. I'll let you be the judge, so tell me if my midnight writing is just as good as my daytime. Either way I hope you enjoy the chapter! And since only have of my brain is on my grammar and spelling will probably be even worse than before.**

I'm not sorry. I feel fantastic! I really threw them off their game. I don't care what score I get, because I have done everything I can. With my head held high I strut back to the twelfth floor.

I get there and see Effie freaking out and Haymitch laughing his ass off.

"What the hell did I miss?" I ask Peeta.

"Katniss shot an arrow at the Gamemakers," he answers.

"That is brilliant!" I exclaim.

"I didn't do it on purpose, and I didn't shoot them, I shot the pig they were eating," Katniss corrects us.

"If it helps I did actually throw knives at them," I admit.

"You did what?" Haymitch and Effie gasp in unison.

"I asked one of the Gamemakers to come down and stand against the wall. One did and I threw knives around him," I explain.

"Why?" asks an exasperated Effie.

"They looked bored, so I gave them a show."

"Did you hit him?" inquires Haymitch.

"No! Didn't you hear that I said 'around them' not at them," I clarify.

"Guys!" calls Peeta. "They're announcing the scores."

We all sit on the couch. Haymitch and I are the only ones who aren't nervous, everyone else is tense. I hardly pay attention to the scoring until they announce District 11. Thresh's face pops up on the screen, and at the bottom the number nine flashes. I let out a sigh of relief. That is a great score, and if I get docked for almost murdering the Gamemaker his score can make up for it. We all are surprised when the little girl from 11 gets a seven.

Now the moment of truth; District 12's scores. Peeta's picture comes up first. He gets an eight. We're all a little relieved. Katniss' and my picture are shown at the same time. The number flashing beneath us is eleven.

ELEVEN! We are only one point away from a perfect score! That will definitely get Thresh and me sponsors! We are all excited! Effie squeals like a little girl. Peeta gives Katniss and me a hug. Haymitch claps us on the back.

I forget that in two days I will be fighting to the death. I take Thresh's advice; live one day at a time. I need to talk to him before we go into the arena, and I might not get the chance. Once everyone has gone to bed I slip out of bed and go to find him.

I get to eleventh floor and realize that Thresh is probably asleep, that I have no clue where he is, and that it was a waste of my time trying to find him. I'm about to go back when I hear footsteps.

"Claire!" whispers a voice. It's Thresh.

"Thresh," I whisper back. "I was just looking for you."

"I was just going to find you too," he says. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Where should we go?" I ask.

"Follow me, we'll find someplace," he beckons me towards him. Thresh grasps my hand and pulls me through the hallways. Eventually, we come across am empty bedroom that's far enough away from everyone else.

"What did you do to get an eleven?" he inquires.

"I threw some knives around a Gamemaker," I reply.

"I'm surprised they didn't kill you," he states.

"Giving me a high score makes me a target for the Careers, so they might as well have," I explain. "What did you do?"

"Threw knives, threw spears, and threw around other heavy shit," he laughs. "But seriously, I'm really proud of you."

"Why?"

"Not only did you get an incredible score, but what you did to get it was extremely brave," he states.

"Thanks," I say and suddenly I get angry. "Ugh, why do we have to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Fight, kill, be killed! I don't want to do it!" I rant. "What if it comes down to you and me? I don't know about you, but I couldn't kill you! I mean you've just been so unbelievably kind to me! I've never been treated this way before…"

"What do you mean? What about your family?" Thresh asks.

"I don't have one," I confess. "My father died before I was born and my mother right after. The rest of my life I've been abused by people who say they'll take care of us-" I'm cut off.

"Us?"

"I grew up in the District 12 Home for Orphans," I admit. "The wardens beat us. I can't stand to see the other kids hurt so I take the beatings for them…"

I can't stop now, I tell him everything. I don't know why, but I need to get this out. After a while he moves closer to me and puts his arms around me. I don't pull away, it feels good. I cry into his shoulder. He pulls me onto his lap and holds me tighter.

"Claire, I promise you that I could never kill you," he assures me when I finish ranting.

"Why me?" I ask abruptly.

"What do you mean?"

"Why choose me as an ally? I'm not the obvious choice, so why me?" I press.

"You were helping Katniss. She's supposed to be your enemy and you were helping her learn a way to kill you. I didn't think I wanted an ally, but there was just something about you, like you wanted to be different. I don't want these games to control me, and you looked like you felt the same way," Thresh explains.

"I came here planning on dying. There's nothing left for me back home, I'm going to get you home," I promise.

"You don't have to do that, it's not what I want," he protests.

"I know, but I do." We lock eyes. He looks at me in a way that is completely different from anything I've ever seen before. Suddenly, he leans down and kisses me, and without hesitation or thought I kiss back.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**This has now become the longest story I've ever written! 11,184 according to Microsoft Word, to some it's not much but to me it's fantastic! So thank you for putting up with my terrible grammar and spelling, annoying intros, and all of my other quirks. Most of all thank you for following, reviewing, favoriting, and reading, it means a lot to me! Enjoy!**

"What are we going to do?" I ask Thresh.

"I have no clue," he replies.

"One of us is going to die," I state.

"I know, but kiss me before one of us does," he says and kisses me again.

"Wait," I stop him. "Aren't we taking this a little fast?"

"Claire, we could be dead in two days. Taking it slow isn't really an option."

"Good point," I say and kiss him again. We don't go any further tonight. I'm sure that if we were anywhere else we would have, but we can't bring ourselves to.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Thresh winks at me.

"See ya," I smile and walk into the elevator.

I flop down on my bed and fall asleep almost instantly. My dreams are filled with nightmares; him turning on me in the arena and stabbing me in the heart. I wake up in a cold sweat.

I don't go back to sleep. I can't stand the nightmares. Thankfully, I don't have to wait long before Effie is yelling at me to get up.

As always I walk into Haymitch talking with Peeta and Katniss.

"Peeta has decided to do the rest of his training alone," Haymitch informs Katniss.

"What?!" exclaims Katniss. Peeta doesn't answer, and I don't blame him. Katniss is just about to yell at him when he leaves.

"You can train with me if I want," I suggest, and we do. Effie teaches us how to walk in high heels. I'm not completely hopeless at it, but Katniss can barely take one step without wobbling uncontrollably.

When it comes to our interview strategy I will use my dark sense of humor to keep up with the fact that I am supposed to be Death. I also need to be intimidating, which is no problem for me. Katniss, on the other hand, has difficulty with every different style we give her. I know Katniss, there is no way that she can fit into any other personality besides her own, and her personality is not one that would go over well with the Capitol.

We give up when our prep teams come to get us. Once again I'm brought into that plain room and am poked and prodded at for hours. When Cynthia comes in, my hair is pulled off my face and poofed. My eyes are surrounded in black, but I don't look evil as I did before. My lips are painted a dark red, and powder has been applied to my cheeks to make them appear fuller.

"You all can go," Cynthia dismisses the team. "You look great."

"Thanks," I say.

"I think you'll really like your dress," she smiles and unzips a black dress bag. The gown inside it is beautiful. It's made of a silky, black fabric, but my chest will be covered with a white design that looks like vines.

"It's great!" I exclaim. I put it on and I am speechless. I look beautiful, something that I never thought I could be.

"You're going to be fantastic," Cynthia adds.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she says. "Now let's get you down there before we're late."

"Effie would kill us if we were," I joke. When I get down I see that Cinna has continued his fire theme for Katniss and Peeta. Katniss wears a shimmery, red dress, and Peeta a black suit with red lining.

"You look great," I compliment them.

"So do you," Peeta replies. Katniss is too busy pacing to hear me. We wait backstage for what feels like an eternity while the other tributes are interviewed.

I find myself thinking of Logan. I wonder how he and Loretta are getting along. I wonder if he even misses me anymore. That's ludicrous, of course he misses me. He's probably in the square watching the interviews as we speak. Does he think I can win? Does it matter? I'm confused, should I be sad at the thought that he doesn't miss me? Should I be happy if he is? It feels self-centered, and makes me feel guilty. I worry about this for so long that I almost miss Thresh's interview.

The Thresh that comes out on stage is not the Thresh who kissed me a night ago. This Thresh is strong and abrasive, not kind and gentle. He answers the questions as quickly and concisely as he can, and as a result the interview is over quickly.

Next is Katniss' turn. Her interview goes well, better than I expected, but not good enough to stand out. The only thing that makes her special is when she spins around and her dress catches fire like she did on the night of the Parade of Tributes.

Peeta's interview, however, is incredible. He is funny, charming, and kind, but that is not what makes him memorable. At the end of his time, Caesar asks him if he has a girl at home who he loves. He replies, "No, she came here with me."

It sends the audience into a frenzy. A thousand thoughts rush through my head. Is that why he didn't want to train with Katniss? Will I even have a chance of being remembered tonight? Has he won the Games right here and now with one statement?

I don't have time to ask anyone, as soon as Peeta walks off I go on. The audience grows quiet at the sight of me. It's good that they still remember the Claire they saw a week ago.

"And last but certainly not least, I present Claire Moore, the Woman of Death!" announces Caesar.

"Is that what they're calling me now?" I ask.

"After the last time we saw you how could we not," he answers. "Speaking of which how did you feel coming out in that outfit?"

"I felt powerful, as if I could win the Hunger Games without even trying," I reply.

"And completely modest, I see," he laughs.

"I try to be," I joke.

"Now, if you're family were here right now what would you say to them?"

Shit, why did he have to ask that? No one wants to root for a tribute with no one to go home to. Logan, I think what would I say to him if he were him?

"I'd tell them 'you better watch out.'"

"That's quite an odd thing to say. Why?" he presses.

"Because I'm Death's mistress now, so they better not make me mad." The audience laughs. Good, they're easily amused.

"Modest and witty, what other things are you bringing to the table?" inquires Caesar.

"Strength, I may look tiny, but I pack a hell of a punch," I answer.

"What is driving you to win?" he interrogates.

"My best friend. By the way, Logan, if you're watching 'Hi'. He's great friend and I can't wait to see him again," I say.

"Only a friend?" Caesar pokes at me playfully.

"Yes, sorry to disappoint, but he's like a brother so even the thought of us together creeps me out even more than my Death costume," I confess.

"Sadly, that's all the time we have left. So once again, Claire Moore the Woman of Death!" Caesar shouts. I did well, not well enough to outdo Peeta, but I don't think anyone could.

When I get backstage the only person I see is Thresh. I run over to him and give him a quick hug.

"You did well," he says.

"So did you," I reply. "Do you think we should have done what Peeta did?"

"I don't know, I still can't believe that he did that," he admits. "It doesn't matter, it's not like they would make an exception or anything, and I want you to win."

"Thresh; I don't have anything back home. You do, but please I don't want talk about it. It doesn't matter, like you said, we have to live one day at a time," I remind him.

"You're right, but I don't want to leave you," he says.

"You don't have to," I assure him. "I'll be right here."

"Am I interrupting something?" inquires a new voice. Thresh and I spin around and see Cynthia standing at the end of the hallway.

"Please don't tell anyone," I plead.

"Your secret's safe with me, but you two might want to leave before anyone else finds you," she suggests. We take her advice; it's too risky to stay here.

I know I'll see him again, though. At midnight I go back to the bedroom where we met only a night before and he's waiting for me.

"I thought you'd come," he greets me with a kiss.

"You thought right."

We spend some time, lying together on the bed. He holds me close and we talk. He tells me about his parents, about how he was an only child, and how they cried when he was Reaped. I tell him about the Home, about my lake, my knives, Logan, and what the warden said to me right before I left 12.

"You can you know," he says.

"Can what?"

"Make a difference," he clarifies.

"How?"

"You're so strong, if you wanted to you could change the world," he persists.

"So could you," I reply. "I hate to ruin the moment, but you need to tell me the plan for tomorrow?"

"I think our best approach is that I'll go into the center of the Cornucopia and you go around the outside, we move as fast as we can, join up, and book it the hell out of there," suggests Thresh.

"Sounds good, but do you really want to go into the center of the Cornucopia," I ask.

"I don't want to, but thinking realistically I can fight my way out of there easily," he explains.

"Just don't get too cocky," I warn him.

"You're telling me not to be cocky? You?" he replies.

"I'm serious, that's how a lot of tributes get killed."

"I won't, I promise," he assures me. We don't talk for a while; I curl up into his arms and enjoy his warmth. I feel safe here; I know he'll protect me. What I wouldn't give to have more time with him. To get to know him even better; I can't waste any minute with him. I cherish every second.

"I love you," confesses Thresh.

"What?"

"I love you, and I won't let the Capitol get you, I promise," he swears.

"I love you too, and I would give up everything to save you," I promise. I mean it. Part of me is glad I was Reaped. If my name wasn't drawn I would have never met him, and I will be thankful to have loved and been loved by him for the rest of my life.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Thank you for your continuous support. Especially when you tell me that I've taken the story in the right direction. I get really insecure about my writing so please continue to review, it makes my day! In thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following I'm giving all of you a virtual hug! How sappy…**

I wake up the next day terrified. Today we go into the arena. This is the first day that I get out of my room before Effie comes to get me. I gorge myself on breakfast, I'm nervous, but I need all the food I can get.

Peeta and Katniss come out soon after me, followed by Haymitch and Effie. We don't speak, even though Effie tries to strike up a conversation.

My heart is pounding a mile a minute. I could very well be dead within three hours. I can't take it, I want to run and burn off the raw adrenaline that is pulsing through my veins. That is the one thing that I have going for me, I will not be frozen with fear.

We are loaded onto a helicopter with the other tributes. I'm placed across from Thresh. I can see the fear in his eyes. He's tense but still. I watch the Careers and see them almost relaxed, and it makes me furious. They sit their proudly while the rest of us tremble in our seats. While I'm fuming with anger a Capitol attendant comes by and injects a small tracker into our forearms, so they will be able know where we are every waking moment of the Hunger Games.

When we land we are each directed into our own rooms to get changed. Cynthia, my stylist, is there waiting for me when I arrive.

"How're you holding up?" she asks.

"I could be worse," I reply. Cynthia hands me the outfit that I will wear in the arena; it consists of a grey shirt, black pants, a black jacket, and boots. It's comfortable, and should be easy to move in.

"Here I'll help you," Cynthia says and pulls my hair up and twists a band around it. "That's a nice necklace."

I hold my token and add, "It was my mother's"

"I'll make sure she gets it back if worse comes to worse," she promises.

"That's sweet but unnecessary, if worse comes to worse I'll be with her," I explain.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I say. "But if I don't make it back and Thresh does, will you give it to him?"

"Of course," she assures me and suddenly gets serious. "Claire, don't let the arena change you. I've barely met you, but you are a great person and I would hate to see that destroyed."

"I'm pretty stubborn, so I doubt that even the arena can change me," I laugh.

"I really hope to see you again."

"Me too," I agree. "It would be a shame if all of my other 'Outfits of Death' don't get to be worn."

Just then an announcement comes through a loud speaker ordering the tributes to get into the clear tubes that stand in the middle of the room. Cynthia gives me one last hug, and I enter the tube. It closes around me and I am lifted up into the arena.

The light blinds me, but once I adjust to the light I scout out the area around me. The other tributes are standing in a semicircle around the shining Cornucopia. To my left is a lake, in front of me is a forest, and to the right is a field. I have no clue which is the best option to choose, so I pray that Thresh does.

I scan the items around the Cornucopia. There's too many to decide what I should go for first, but I'm betting that a backpack would be useful. I start plotting when the countdown begins.

60, 59, 58.

My heart rate picks up, and my breath quickens.

50, 49, 48.

Think of Cynthia.

41, 40, 39.

Think of the Home.

34, 33, 32.

Think of Loretta.

26, 25, 24.

Think of Logan.

16, 15, 14.

Think of my lake.

10, 9, 8.

Think of my knives.

7, 6, 5.

Think of the attic.

4, 3, 2.

Think of Thresh.

1.

The gong sounds and I am off. I skirt around the edge of the supplies and gather everything I can; two backpacks, a sleeping bag, and some water bottles. I look around; the bloodbath has begun.

I need to get away, but I can't find Thresh. I frantically look for him, all the while grabbing whatever I can get ahold of.

I feel a hand grab my shoulder and I turn around. It's Thresh, he has a cut on his cheek, but there's no time to ask. As we run out I feel a sharp pain in my arm and the flow of my warm blood. I don't even look back.

We run into the field, and continue to run for hours. It feels good, running. The pure adrenaline that has been building up in me is released. My lungs are burning, but I don't care. My feet are sore from being slapped on the ground, but we continue. My throat is dry, but we don't stop. We have to get as far away from the other tributes as possible.

The sun starts to set when we come across a small stream; it leads to the edge of another forest. We travel along the woods until we reach a tangle of branches that form a sort of dome.

"You think we can stop here?" I ask.

"I think so," he pants. "We were the only ones to go into the field that I know of, so we should be miles away from the closest one."

We crawl inside the dome. A little light filters through the leaves; the ground is soft, but dry.

"It's perfect," I say.

"Don't say that, it'll jinx it," kids Thresh. We drop all of the things we were carrying and begin to go through them. Inside the backpacks are two water bottles, a tin of some kind of cream, and a first aid kit. Along with the backpacks I have a sleeping bag, two empty water bottles, a tarp, and a small lantern. Thresh was lucky enough to get a vest and belt of knives.

"We were really lucky," I state. "And we barely got hurt."

"I told you we make a good team."

"Come over here and let me look at your cut," I order. I pull out the first aid kit and rip open one of the alcohol wipes. Gently, I begin to clean the cut.

"Fuck that stings," Thresh pulls away.

"It'll hurt even more when it's infected," I insist. "So don't be a baby."

"What about your arm?" he asks.

"I'll take care of it when I'm done with you," I assure him. I continue to tend to his wound. Thankfully, it isn't very deep so it should heal fast. Both of us are jittery, and jump at the slightest noise.

Once Thresh finishes wrapping my arm he heads back out to the stream to get water. When he leaves I put on the belt of knives, and with every minute he's gone my anxiety grows. I don't want to be alone and more importantly I don't want him to be alone. I want to protect him.

_We've made it this far_, that's what I keep telling myself, _we've made it through the hardest part_.

I grasp my dolphin ring and I feel better. I organize our supplies in a way that if we have to leave we can reach everything quickly, and before I know it Thresh is back.

"Miss me?" he jokes. Thresh wraps me in his arms and kisses me.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**You all are the best readers I could ever have! I really appreciate your reviews; they seriously make my day every time I get one, especially because they are all so positive. So special thanks to EmmaMellark97 and hpfandunoit who have reviewed on almost every one of my chapters! So please review, follow, favorite, tell your friends, maybe your grandmother, and enjoy!**

The morning was cruelly beautiful. The air was clear, the sky was blue, and the sun was shining. I laughed realizing that if I died today at least this would be the last thing I see.

I crawled back into our shelter. Thresh was still asleep. I actually giggled when I saw him. Whenever he's awake Thresh is strong and intimidating, but when he's asleep he looks like a child. Reluctantly, I bent down and shook him awake.

"Is everything okay?" he jumps up.

"Everything is fine, I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to get more water," I inform him, and I walk to the stream alone. The water is clean, clear, and cool. Some fish swim lazily around in the water. I make a mental note to come back and spear some.

"It really is beautiful here, isn't it?" Thresh tells me when I get back.

"Yes, pretty ironic though," I add.

"Completely, what's the plan for the day?" he asks.

"I didn't really have one," I admit. "But I think we should try to get some food."

"I never thought that this would be so calm," Thresh comments.

"I know, but I guess they only show the 'exciting' parts on T.V."

We make our way to the stream with our knives. I am terrified that we are being lulled into a false sense of security so I make sure we're both on constant alert.

Our day is spent by the stream. The sun is beating down on us so hard that we're covered in a sheet of sweat. As I was trying to catch a fish I slip and fall into the water. Instead of being hurt I burst out laughing, and soon Thresh joins in. It feels so good to laugh, but it also makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong; laughing in the Hunger Games.

Suddenly, I hear a sharp crack. I spin around and raise my knife; Thresh does the same. I scan the forest, looking for what made the sound. I turn to Thresh to ask if he sees anything when, out of the corner of my, eye I see a glint of light.

"LOOK OUT!" I shove Thresh out of the path of a spear. It imbeds itself in the ground where Thresh stood. I look back at where the spear came from and see the tribute lining up another spear in our direction. Before he has a chance to throw I send my knife into his heart. A second later the cannon sounds.

I reach down and help Thresh up.

"Thanks," he says.

"I just killed someone," I state.

"It's alright."

"No it's not, I just killed someone," I say again.

"Listen, you did it to save us."

"I did, I saved us," I start to go almost numb. I'm confused; I'm sorry for killing him, and I'm not at the same time. Should I? Killing is what I was sent here to do. I did not want to do it, but I saved Thresh and that's what really matters.

"You know we have to leave now, right?" I force myself to move on from this, I can't dwell on it.

"Just a second," Thresh runs into the forest and reappears carrying a spear and another backpack. "We could use these."

"Right," I agree and pluck the other spear from the ground. I look at Thresh again to confirm that we can go. He hands me the knife that I used to kill the tribute. It's covered in blood. I swallow hard, wipe the blood off on the grass, and replace the knife into my belt.

Following the stream, we travel farther into the field. We don't stop until we come across a small cave that would make a suitable shelter. I inspect the area until I am positive that there are no other tributes around.

I climb inside the cave and see Thresh trying to start a fire in the corner.

"Where'd you get the flint?" I inquire.

"It was in the tribute's pack," he answers.

"Are you sure you want to build a fire inside out shelter, potentially destroying all of our supplies?"

"Do you want to build a fire outside and have the smoke point all of the Careers in our direction?" he comes back with.

"Fair enough, you cook the fish and I'll watch the stuff," I sit on the other side of the cave and pile our supplies around me. Slowly but surely, my anxiety starts to build again. Thresh can sense it and to keep me distracted he begins to ask me the most random questions.

"What was your favorite food in the Capitol?"

"The fettuccini Alf redo," I answer.

"Favorite color?"

"That kind of greyish-purple color, do you know what I mean?"

"I think so," he replies. "I personally like red. What did you do in District 12 to pass the time?"

"I sang."

"Really? My mother did too, don't take this the wrong way, but you two are quite similar," he comments.

"How?"

"You're both kind, resourceful, and you both have an interesting sense of humor. Did you ever want to have a family?"

"Yeah, but I never thought it would have been an option for me," I answer.

"What do you mean?" he presses.

"Most of the time Home kids don't get married," I reply. "We're outcasts, and generally too beat up and weak to have kids."

"If you could what would you name them?" asks Thresh.

"I have no clue, I never thought of it before."

"I always liked the name Iris," he tells me. "At least I thought it sounded nice."  
"It does," I agree. That's how it is for the rest of the evening, and it's perfect. I learn everything about him; like how he would tease his little brother, that he loves the smell of a fire, and that his token is a gold ring that was in his family for years.

Right then and there I promise myself that if he is killed, I will make sure that he is remembered, that he will not die a forgotten tribute.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Thanks to all of you who have favorited, followed, reviewed, and above all read The Forgotten Tribute. I really appreciate your reviews, they tell me that I'm doing a good job and that my attempts to make the chapters longer by filling them with the random ideas that pop into my head are actually good! Enjoy**

"Morning," Thresh says as I wake up. We're both lying in a sleeping bag that is so big we could still fit another person in it.

"Is everything alright?" I ask.

"Everything is fine," he replies. I look into his chocolate colored eyes; they make me feel safe and loved. He smiles at me and I smile back. I don't want to live without him; I can never go back to District 12 now. I want to spend the rest of my life with him and I will. He will win for the both of us.

"I know what you're thinking," he says.

"What is it then," I inquire.

"You're thinking of a way to make sure I win, and now I'm telling you again that that will not happen. You've spent your whole life sacrificing yourself for others, now let me do it for you," he begs.

"Please don't make me."

"I'm not going to make you do anything."

I'm about to protest when I hear a yell from outside. I peak through the branches that conceal us. There are two tributes outside. One of them is a small red-headed girl that I recognize as the tribute from 5, and the other is a girl that I think is from District 6. They both have swords. I see the girl from 6 go to stab 5's midsection, but 5 jumps back. She avoids the hit completely, and lifts her weapon over her head to deliver a fatal blow. 6 steps aside, but she isn't quick enough. The blade comes down and shaves the skin off of her arm; it cuts so deep that you can see parts of her bone. She starts to screech when 5 drives the sword into her heart.

BOOM! The cannon goes off, and the girl from 5 runs off victorious.

"Did you see that?" I ask Thresh.

"Yes. Did she see us?"

"No, we're safe for now," I reply. The image of the tortured girl runs through my mind and I shiver. It gets me every year when I see this. I know it will happen, but I am still sickened when I see it. They're no older than any of the girls back at the Home. In my head, I see the scene that I have just witnessed, but this time the girls are replaced with Logan and me. I almost vomit.

"Are you alright?" he questions.

"No." I wipe the image from my mind and try to forget. After swallowing the bile that is creeping up my throat I take a deep breath.

"Do you need anything?"

"Crackers," I request. The old trick for curing nausea; I nibble on a few and feel better.

"Feel any better?"

"Yes," I say. "I'm fine."

"No one is going to do that to you, if that's what you're worried about" he promises. "I swear."

I curl myself in his arms and let him stroke my hair. We spend almost the entire day like that.

The next day we wake up starving. We had finished all of our fish two days ago, so I volunteer to go get more.

I climb out of the cave and suck in the fresh air. It rained last night and the grass is sweet with leftover rain drops. I tighten my belt, grab my spear, and head out to the stream. When I get there, it is completely devoid of fish. I hike up and down stream; no fish.

Now I have to make a choice. The smart thing to do would be just to go back and tell Thresh, but eating every day in the Capitol has made me spoiled and I decide to go hunt for more.

I head a little farther upstream and cut into the forest. I spend hours scouring bushes for edible berries, and climbing trees to gather nuts. After a while I lose track of time and it soon grows dark. I try to remember which way I came into the woods, but my sense of direction is off.

Frantically, I spin around and attempt to locate some kind of landmark. I close my eyes and listen to see if I can hear the stream; nothing. I have gone too far into the woods. I run around, trying to get out, and become even more disorientated than I was before.

Why didn't I just go back? Why was I so stupid? I plop myself down by a rock and try to think. I can't.

Thresh; he is the only thing that I can think of. He doesn't know where I am. I don't know where he is. What if he goes to find me and gets killed? What if he goes to find me and I have already been killed? He will blame himself, I know he will. But this is not his fault, it was me alone and I pray that he sees that if worst comes to worst.

I need to get back before he does, or find him if he already has. I get up and am about to move on when I hear a voice from behind me.

"What do we have here?"

I turn around. In front of me is a tall boy with raven hair. He is not a Career, but with his strong build he easily could be. He stares at me icily and I pull out one of my knives, but he moves before I have to chance to throw it. Drawing his sword, he charges towards me. I block his first three blows with my spear, but on the fourth it snaps in two. A wicked grin spreads across his face. With one smooth stoke, he attempts to decapitate me. I jump back, and the blade slices at my chest.

I gasp and stumble back. The boy's balance is thrown off and I have just enough time to drive a dagger in the back of his neck. I twist it and he falls down. The cannon sounds almost immediately.

I stagger off, holding my chest. I need to get as far away from the body as possible. Eventually the pain becomes too much. I can take it anymore. I slump down at the base of a tree and pass out.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in this chapter.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Thank you guys for appreciating my sick mind in that last chapter. Thank you for reviewing, favoriting, reading, and following. And a fair warning this chapter is going to be all kinds of sappy. And this chapter will contain the sex scene that I have been dreading writing, but I can't push it back any farther (oh god that sounds wrong) This chapter is quite short, but I personally think this is the best thing I have ever written so I hope its amazingness makes up for its length (oh god that sounded even more wrong than before)**

"Come on Claire," a voice pleads as I begin to wake up. "Stay with me. Don't leave me, please."

"You found me," I cry. I am soaked to the bone and shivering. It must have rained again; I can barely remember anything.

"I thought I lost you," Thresh sobs.

"So did I." Thresh lifts me up, carries me back to our cave, and lays me down on the sleeping bag.

"What happened to you?" he asks.

"I don't know exactly," I reply. Cautiously, he lifts my shirt to get a better look at my wound. There is a long slash along my chest. It didn't cut very deep, but it has left me soaked in blood.

"Oh my god," gasps Thresh. Being very meticulous, he cleans the gash and wraps me in gauze. My chest is soar and my breathing is sharp and shallow. I discard my wet clothing and curl up in the sleeping bag.

"I'm so sorry," I say. "I should have never left."

"I shouldn't have let you go alone," he responds.

"No, you didn't know. It's my fault."

"I still shouldn't have let you go," he protests.

"Thresh, please," I demand. "Stop."

Over the next few days I progressively get better. A sponsor had sent me some strong pain killers which made all the difference in the world. All the while Thresh looked after me. He fed me and kept me warm. He protected me and refused to let me take over guard duty, even when I began to regain my strength.

I love him. It's as simple as that. And he loves me. We have brought something real and pure into these Games, and not even the Capitol can take that away. It's now that I realize that I can be happy, that even when you are in the most cruel and torturous circumstances that happiness and love can still exist.

Logan was right; I don't have to be miserable. That I have to make the most of what I'm given; cherish every moment of my life. Look at my blessings and not my curses. Greet my fears with confidence. Smile at death. Hold my head high and I can achieve anything.

I want now more than ever to tell him that he was right. To apologize for everything I've said to him. To promise him that I will never doubt him again; that I will be positive. But I will never get the chance, and that is something I will always regret.

It's incredible how the world works, how it brought Thresh and me together, and how it's kept us together. I gaze up lovingly into his eyes and he returns the look.

"Can I ask you something?" he proposes.

"Sure."

"Do you believe in soul mates?" Thresh asks.

"What do you mean?"

"My mother always told me, ever since I was a child, that everyone has a person that is made for them, that everyone has someone that completes them. And that people will search their whole lives to find that person. That they sometimes look in the wrong places, or leave that person but no matter what they always end up together," he explains.

"What are you getting at?" I inquire.

"I believe that you and I are soul mates," he confesses.

"Then I do to," I reply. He leans down and kisses me. I return the kiss with a greater passion, and he does the same. The passion between us is undeniable and unstoppable. His lips leave mine and trail down my neck.

We begin discarding our clothing as we sink down deeper into the sleeping bag. I need him and he needs me. We are pure fire and passion. We are one. He pushes inside me and I am complete. He is everything I have ever wanted.

The sheer pleasure that pulses through me is uncontrollable. We increase our pace and the undeniable passion, lust, need, and love we feel for each other is released. I am fulfilled and so is he.

This moment could not be any more wonderful. I pray that it will never end; I don't want it to. I need it to last forever. But it can't and it doesn't. Reluctantly he releases me and we get dressed.

"I love you," Thresh says.

"I love you too," I wrap my arms around him.

"I will never stop loving you," he says again.

"Neither will I," I seal our promise with a kiss. It is gentle, sweet, and it is perfect. Whatever happens to us in the future we will always have this moment, and nothing or no one can take it away. And of that I am certain.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**So this chapter might be really really sweet or really really stupid, please just indulge me because I had this idea from the beginning of the story and I loved it. Feel free to tell me that it was stupid and that it ruined the story because I am frankly not going to care. If you love it and think it's genius please please tell me because then I won't feel as stupid as I think I am. Above all just enjoy it, and thank you for sticking with me in this little adventure of mine, but it is far from over.**

I am beaming. I have never smiled or felt like this in my entire life. I gaze at Thresh and feel like a child. He's beaming too. All of my fears are momentarily wiped away. We are giddy and stupid, and we are for the rest of the day.

I never knew until today that experiencing pure happiness will make you forget where you are, what you're doing, your troubles, and your fears until today. I also never knew it can turn you absolutely insane.

I'm sitting on Thresh's lap when he asks, "Will you marry me?"

"What?" I exclaim. "You do realize where we are, right?"

"I know where we are, but that doesn't have to stop us," he states. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I would be honored if you would become my wife."

"That is so crazily, stupidly, sweet," I tell him. "But I would be honored."

"I love you," he leans down and kisses me.

"I love you too," I say when we part. I know that it's stupid, and I know that it's crazy. But the fact is I never thought marriage would be an option for me. I know how people say that it's pointless and that it doesn't matter, but to me it makes it special. It makes us special. I don't care what anyone else thinks.

When I was first chosen to be a part of these Games, I promised myself that I would finally do what I wanted. And this, being with Thresh, is what I want.

So alone it our cave we become man and wife. Our tokens were both rings, so we even exchange them. I can't help myself from laughing; as soon as I start he joins it and we can't stop. I don't think about anything except the two of us.

What he said about soul mates was right, and I now know it. No matter what the circumstances are if two people are meant to be together they will be, no matter what.

It's been two days since Thresh and I got married. Nothing has changed. Our days go by as they always have. Sleeping, talking, and waiting. There is still an unspoken threat that hangs in the air. The prospect of us being the last two tributes alive is more terrifying than being killed. The thought itself is nauseating.

There is also the unspoken promise that if it comes down to us, that we will not give in to the Capitol's wishes and that we will stubbornly sit there until the Capitol kills us themselves.

On our third night a voice booms over the entire arena.

"What do you think it is?" asks Thresh.

"Probably an announcement for a feast," I guess.

"Congratulations, you all have made it to the final ten! You have proven yourself brave and strong. To reward all of you there has been a change in the rulings. Yes you heard right a rule change!" announces the voice, I order myself not to get my hopes up. Instead I tell myself that the change is that we are now allowed to engage in cannibalism. "This year we are allowing more than one victor as long as they are all from the same district!"

I wait for the voice to call bluff. I wait for him to correct himself and say that it doesn't matter about the districts. I wait and nothing comes.

"What does this mean?" Thresh inquires.

"It means that they don't care about us," I whisper. "They have already decided that Katniss and Peeta will win. We're still just unimportant tributes to them."

"But why? Why doesn't our story matter to them," he screams. "Why are we forgotten?"

"Because they're the Capitol and they can do whatever the fuck they want and they don't want us! They don't care, Thresh, they just don't fucking care!" I rant.

"This doesn't change anything between us, Claire, we're still in the same place that we were before, nothing has changed," he attempts to explain.

"It does change things! This once again shows that I am forgotten! That I'm just there and that I don't matter! That there are always people that matter more than me! It doesn't matter what I do someone else is always going to be more fucking important!" I vent. It's the story of my life, I'm always second best, ignored…forgotten.

"I chose you," Thresh states. "I could have left you when you got lost, but I didn't, I found you. Not everyone has forgotten you."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, honest," I apologize.

"I know, I just want to remind you that I'm always going to be here for you, I promise," he assures me. "Believe me I'm just as pissed about this as you are."

I let him wrap me in his arms. I am still fuming with anger, but he is right, I have never been second best or forgotten by him and I never will be.

He's right, nothing has changed for us, and just to prove it like every other night before I fall asleep in his arms.

I wake up the next morning to the soft crunch of leaves and hushed voices coming from outside the cave.

"I know I heard someone out here," says a male voice.

"You're wrong, no one is here," protests a female one. I nudge Thresh and he bolts upright.

"We need to move now," I demand.

"What happening?"

"There's someone coming and if we don't move soon they'll find us," I inform him. Silently, we slip out of the cave. We are undetected and just when I am about to relax when I sneeze.

"See I told you!" exclaims the male voice. Without a single word or thought Thresh and I bolt down the field. I am running with all my might, but I'm not fast enough. The two tributes soon catch up with us.

The boy draws a spear on Thresh and the girl points a bloody sword at me. Part of me thinks that I should just let them kill me. That way I won't have to face the rest of the Games or have to see Thresh die. That thought is quickly replaced by knowing that Thresh would never forgive me for going down without a fight.

I grab one of my knives and throw it at the girl. She ducks just in time and lunges at me. I have nothing to block the blow, and her blade slices my arm. I have a little time to make a move while she regains her balance.

I take one of my daggers and slash at her neck. The knife's tip slices down her throat and she begins to cough up blood. In a desperate last attempt she throws her sword at me, but this time I have the chance to jump out of the way.

I turn around just as Thresh drives his spear through the other tribute's midsection. He does it with such force that I can see the spearhead peeking out of the tribute's back. Two cannons go off and Thresh and I are gone. We run as far away as possible.

We don't stop until the sun begins to set. I look for a place to set up camp and see the tent of leaves where we first took refuge.

With sore legs and burning lungs we crawl back into canopy of leaves and collapse.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**So how have you all been enjoying the story so far? (that is my subtle way of saying I really want you all to give a review, I don't care what it says it would just mean a lot to me) Is there anything that you want me to do in the future for this story? I will listen to all of your suggestions because your opinions mean a lot to me. Thank you all for sticking with the story and all of the little weird things I've been doing in it, because this thing all started because I had this idea and I could not write anything else until I did this. So it started being about me and now I write it for you all. Enjoy.**

**Another warning this one has some really graphic stuff in it, but don't worry as soon as I post this I'm going to make an appointment with a shrink. **

I wake up the next morning with a sharp pain in my stomach. Scrambling out of our shelter I vomit. I stand there for at least fifteen minutes retching. At one point Thresh comes out and stands with me.

By the time I'm done there is nothing in my stomach. My throat burns, and the acidic aftertaste of my sick is all that's left in my mouth. My body is wracked with hiccups and I am shivering. Thresh takes me back into the canopy and wraps me in the sleeping bag. I don't have the energy to thank him, I simply pass out.

My dreams are haunted with the ghosts of the three tributes I murdered. They claw at my pale flesh, and eat me alive. I wake up screaming and swatting at my skin.

"Hey, hey," Thresh comforts me. "It was just a dream. Nothing's going to hurt you."

"Thresh, I am going to be sick," I warn him. Without skipping a beat he grabs one of the backpacks we've acquired and places it in front of me. I retch and retch as bile spills from my mouth into the bag.

"What is wrong with me?" I ask.

"You're sick," Thresh states.

"No shit Sherlock," I retort. "But why?"

"I don't know," he admits, and leans over to presses the back of his hand on my forehead. "Oh my god, you're burning up."

Over the next week he takes care of me. He wraps me up in the sleeping bag, pours water into my mouth, feeds me, and presses a cold cloth to my face but nothing helps. I simply get worse.

I am exhausted, and I want to give up. Everything I eat my body rejects. My fever refuses to break and weakens me with every hour. I fight. I fight it with the little strength I have left. I want to give up and make the pain go away, but Thresh won't let me. He's with me every second of the day; holding my hand, and pleading for me to stay with him.

I fight to keep conscious, for the disease has cursed me with nightmares. All of them are the same. They begin with the rotting corpses of fallen tributes clawing at my body. Just as I am about to die the dream shifts.

Logan stands in front of me. I run to him and beg him to help me; as I throw my arms around him he begins to strangle me.

And the dream changes again. This time it's the wardens from the Home beating all of the children to death, and there is nothing I can do to stop them. I try to run and help, but I am chained to a wall. I pull against the restraints until I feel my blood begin to run down my arms. As soon as a drop of blood reaches my elbow I am transported again.

This time I am in the arena with the two tributes from District 2. I am frozen in the middle of the field as they prowl around me. Suddenly, the boy jumps at me. With his spear he makes thin cuts on my legs and arms. I scream at the torture. Then the girl appears and begins to shave off my skin. I am in pure agony. I bleed out and the dream transforms for the last time.

It's Thresh. He is kissing me when out of nowhere he plunges a knife into my midsection. He twists the knife and tells me that I mean nothing to him. I cry and shriek, but he doesn't stop. He confesses that it was all a ploy and that I am no longer needed. He tells me that I am unloved and forgotten.

And the dream is over. I wake up sobbing hysterically, and when Thresh tries to comfort me I push him off.

"Claire," he says. "It was just a dream, it's not real."

"But it felt so real, it felt so real," I cry.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I never could and I never will," Thresh swears.

"I know, it just…it just was so scary," I say again, and I let him hold me.

"I'm right here," he starts to rock me like a child. "And I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I swear."

"I know, it just felt so real," I repeat.

"But it wasn't."

"I know."

I am becoming undone. The sickness is both psychological and physical. We pray for a sponsor gift, but nothing comes. I need a miracle to save me now, and soon we are granted with one.

On the seventh night of my sickness a voice booms over the arena for the second time.

"Tomorrow at sunrise there will be a feast at the Cornucopia. Inside a bag with your District's number on it is something that you desperately need. Good luck."

For the first time in weeks I feel a sense of hope. I look at Thresh and his eyes have lightened up. He smiles down at me and says, "You're going to be alright."

I smile back at him. Soon after the announcement Thresh leaves to go to the Cornucopia. I wait anxiously for hours. If he is killed I will surely die; I can't hold on much longer and I need whatever is at the feast.

While I wait I think of all of the times I've spent with Thresh. The night we first met at the Parade of Tributes. When we became allies during training. The time he told me that I didn't need luck to do well in my private training. The first time we kissed. The stolen nights we spent together. Our nights in the arena. Everything he told me. All of the times he told me that everything was going to be alright no matter what danger we faced. The night he found me bleeding in the woods. All of the times he told me that he loved me and that he would never leave me.

I twist the ring on my finger and pray that he is still alive, that he found whatever it is that I need, and that he is unhurt. He doesn't return until the end of the day and when he does I bombard him with questions.

"I'll explain in a minute, but first," he says and pulls out a thin syringe from a black bag and injects in into my arm. Relief floods through me and I can physically feel the drug relaxing my body and healing me. I sigh and fall into a dreamless sleep.

When I wake up I feel fine, I feel like I could run a thousand miles, and most of all I feel hungry. I eat all that I can while Thresh explains what happened at the feast.

When he got there, Clove was bent over Katniss and was holding a knife to her face. Thresh took the opportunity to eliminate her and saved Katniss. Apparently, Katniss had allied with the other girl from Thresh's district, and that was why Thresh spared her. I thank him for that, Katniss doesn't deserve to die, and now if Thresh doesn't make it I hope that she and Peeta can return to District 12.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Hey guys, so I just wanted to touch base with you all and ask you if there is anything that I am doing in the story that you don't like or want me to do because I haven't heard much from you all and I miss you. And as I've said before your reviews make my day and I'm not kidding when I say that. I check my email looking for alerts and when I see a review I get all happy and say to myself "They do like my writing" because if I don't hear anything I start to think that you all hate it (and yes I do tend to be a little dramatic) so please review please please please!**

I wake up the next morning and feel even better than yesterday. There are only six of us left now. The games are almost over and the time I get to spend with Thresh is decreasing with every second.

"They're going to find us soon," I say.

"I know, I just don't know what we can do," he replies.

"I don't think there is anything that we can do," I admit. "We're getting close to the end."

"I'm not sad to have been chosen, you know," he states. "Because if I had never gotten reaped I never would have met you."

"I'm not said either," I agree. "Meeting you has made all the difference in the world to me."

And for the first time I see Thresh cry. Tears roll down his cheeks and he buries his face in my hair.

"Hey, hey," I begin to repeat what he always says to me when I break down. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"That's not why I'm crying," he says.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't want you to die."

"Thresh I've already told you, there's nothing left for me back home, you deserve to go home," I try to convince him.

"But Claire you are so powerful," he states. "You could do so much, and that is why I cannot let you die."

"Thresh, I am nothing special. I was nothing until I met you," I confess. We sit there holding each other, and wait. What we're waiting for, I'm not sure, but we just wait. Eventually, we part.

I mean every word I say to him, and I need him to know that. I want him to realize that there is nothing great about me, that all I've ever done is just an impulse. I want him to know that.

Later that day a cannon goes off. Now there are only five of us. We are so close to our worst nightmare that I can hardly sit still. I want to come up with some sort of plan to get myself killed so Thresh can win, but I try as I might I cannot come up with anything that would work.

I want to rewind time and live the past month over and over again. I don't think of all of the pain or the worry, I just want to save him. I just want to be innocent again, and I want to be with him longer.

Even though our stomachs are begging for food, we refuse to leave each other to get any. I don't know if it's because if one of us goes they could get killed or that we simply want to spend all the time we have left together. But after a while hunger prevails and I leave to find food.

I walk into the edge of the forest and begin picking berries. As I'm crouched down to reach the fruit in the center of a bush I hear a scream. I pear through the brush and see the tribute from District 2 impale Thresh onto his spear.

I bite onto my sleeve to stifle a scream. Thresh lies helpless on the ground while the boy stands over him. Thresh turns his head towards the woods and locks eyes with me. His eyes plead for me to stay where I am. I obey, but even if I didn't I am paralyzed. I knew this would happen, but I refuse to believe what I am seeing.

The boy leans down and asks Thresh, "Now where is your little whore?"

With the little strength he has Thresh spits in his face. He yells and stomps on Thresh's foot. Thresh wails at the pain.

"Now I'm not going to ask you again, where is she?" he demands. Thresh lifts his shaky arm and points behind him, into the field.

"Thank you,' the boy sneers and takes off in the opposite direction. Thresh knew that he wouldn't believe him, and I praise him for that.

When I can no longer see the boy in the distance I run out to Thresh.

"Thresh, stay with me, Thresh," I beg.

"Claire," he sighs.

"Thresh, please you can't leave me!" I sob, and try to put pressure on his wound.

"Claire, it's not going to work," Thresh says.

"No, Thresh, I need you, please," I continue to plead. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replies.

"Please, Thresh, please, you can make it," I persist.

"It's not going to work," he insists.

"No, you're going to be just fine," I am commanding him now. "I can't do this without you."

"Claire, you are my soul mate," Thresh whispers and releases him final breath. As soon as the words have left his mouth a cannon booms from overhead.

"NO!" I shriek. I throw my arms over him and sob. I sob for what feels like years. I swear and curse at him for leaving me. I scream at the boy who murdered him and eventually I sink to my knees and whisper back to his lifeless body, "You're my soul mate, Thresh."

**BONUS AUTHOR'S NOTE: I literally cried when I wrote this…is that weird? If you reread this and listen to Skillet's song "Lucy" it makes it even worse. That song is what I was listening to when I wrote Thresh's death. Sorry guys, but you knew it was going to happen.**

**BONUS BONUS AUTHOR'S NOTE: I even got a little teary eyed while editing, it's just so sad.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**I just want to thank you all again for sticking with the story, and I also want to say I'm sorry I killed Thresh (well Cato did actually) but as I told . (whose username I cannot get over of) the story categories are Romance/Tragedy. **

I force myself to leave. I cannot stay any longer. Step by step I make my way into the woods across the field. I have to find Katniss and Peeta, the three of us can still win.

It is pouring rain and my legs are constantly being scratched by thorny bushes, but I carry on. While I'm walking I think of Thresh; all that he did for me and how little I did for him. I think of how he viewed me compared to how everyone else saw me. I was forgotten, I was ignored, and I was viewed as weak. He remembered me, he noticed me, and he saw my strength. And I loved him, I will remember him, he will not be ignored. And I promise myself that we will be remembered.

Now for the first time I'm determined to win, but not for me, for him. This will be his victory, not mine. As I'm thinking I slip on a slick rock and land in another stream.

"What was that?" a voice asks. I look around, but I don't see anyone.

"Who's there?" I call. The voice is familiar, but I know it does not belong to the boy from 2. Out from a tangle of vines I see a face that I have seen many times before. "Katniss."

"Claire," she says. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," I reply. "Is Peeta with you?"

"Yes, but I thought you were allies with Thresh," she answers.

"Thresh died, and I was thinking with the rule change the three of us could win," I propose. "Together."

"Alright," she agrees. I don't know if she trusts me fully yet, but I know that I cannot go back to District 12 alone. We go back into a cave where they must have been hiding. Just like Katniss said, Peeta is lying in the cave. When he sees me a look of confusion spreads across his face.

I tell them everything that happened to me. Katniss sits there emotionlessly, but Peeta attempts to comfort me when I tell them of Thresh's death. In return Peeta tells me what happened to them. I am shocked to learn that Peeta joined the Careers, but soon understand when he explains it was to protect Katniss.

I realize that what happened to them is almost the same as what happened to Thresh and me. Against all odds they fell in love, they refused to let the arena get in the way of that. Part of me aches to see that this could have been Thresh and me, still alive and hoping to both return home together.

I can't think about what could have been, so I turn the conversation towards what we have to do to win. Realistically, the boy from 2, whose name I learn is Cato, will find us but there's no telling how long that will take. I don't want to spend another day in this arena, so I convince Katniss and Peeta that tomorrow we will go looking for him.

That night I sleep alone. Next to me Katniss and Peeta share a sleeping bag, just like Thresh and I did. Tears roll down my cheeks, I tell myself to forget about it, but I can't and I won't. I want to remember everything about him. My mind replays the memories we shared together. I want to move on so badly, but I can't. Over this time he became a part of me, and I will never fully recover from that loss.

He haunts my dreams. He tells me to win for him; he tells me that I can do something important. I don't understand what it means. All this time people have been telling me that I am powerful, that I can change things, and that I can do something huge, but I don't know what they mean.

When we wake up in the morning the rain has stopped. In fact there is no sign that it had rained at all. The trees and plants are completely dry, and the stream has evaporated.

"What does this mean?" asks Peeta.

"The Gamemakers," I say. "They're driving us together."

"This is going to be the last day," Katniss states. I take in a deep breath and we carry on. I walk in the ditch where the stream once flowed, Katniss and Peeta walk beside me. Cato is strong, but the three of us are stronger.

We walk for hours; no one knows where we're going. When the sun begins to set I hear something.

"Did you hear that?" I inquire.

"Yes," Peeta answers.

"What was it?" Katniss asks.

"I don't know," I reply and the sound comes again, but louder. It's a deep growl; I spin around and see something charging at us. "Run!"

We bolt. Running as fast as we can, we reach the Cornucopia. I look behind us and see dogs. Except these dogs are over three times the size of what they should be. Mutts, genetically engineered monsters designed by the Capitol. Their only purpose is to kill us.

I push Peeta and Katniss to move faster. The mutts are gaining on us and we have nowhere to go.

"The Cornucopia," I hear Katniss shout. "We can climb on top of it."

Following her orders the three of us scramble up the structure. Once we're out of reach of the mutts, I turn to look at the monsters. I wish I hadn't. The creations are snarling and snapping at the base of the Cornucopia, but it's when I look them in the eye that makes me feel sick.

The eyes are those of the fallen tributes. I see the eyes of the boy who I killed in the forest, the tribute who threw the spear at Thresh, the two tributes who discovered us the morning after the rule change, and Thresh. His eyes barrel through me. They have the same viciousness that they held in my nightmares. I shriek and scream.

Soon after my horrible discovery, Cato comes sprinting towards us. He's terrified. The mutts have been chasing him, blood runs down his face. He scrambles up the Cornucopia and joins us.

The four of us stand there, unmoving while the mutts snarl at our heals. All of us are devising a plan. Cato is the first to act; he runs at Peeta and puts him in a headlock.

"I'll kill him," he yells and turns to me. "Just like I killed yours."

The pure hate that has been building up in me since I saw him spear Thresh explodes. I scream at him. Cato is momentarily stunned by my outburst. Without missing a beat Katniss fires an arrow into his hand and Peeta stumbles back to us.

Cato is about fall when I grab his collar.

"Rot in hell," I fume while I thrust my knife into his heart. "You son of a bitch."

With one last twist of the dagger and push him into the jaws of the mutts.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Chapter sixteen and seventeen were my favorite chapters to write because you finally get to see what a badass Claire is. I love all of the reviews I get from you guys because you all are so nice and supportive of my weirdness. So I really want you to review again. And to all of you wondering this story is still not over. **

**And I'm sorry this chapter is so short, I promise I'll write more, but this is like the best chapter if not the best thing I have ever written in my life and I'm so happy to share it with you. (And thank you to the academy for giving me this Oscar)**

The gnashing of teeth, ripping of flesh, and shrieks of pure agony are all I hear. These are the sounds that will plague my mind for years to come. They go on all night. Katniss, Peeta, and I huddle in the center of the Cornucopia until morning.

As the sun rises the final canon goes off. It's over; it is finally over. The three of us wait for some kind of announcement. Nothing comes. We slide off the Cornucopia and look up into the sky, waiting.

"Congratulations on making it to the final three," booms a voice. "But there has been another change in the rulings. There can and will be only one victor."

I collapse to the ground, and Katniss throws herself onto Peeta. I cannot bear to kill either of them. The Capitol has played one final cruel trick on us. They gave us the illusion of hope just to snatch it away when we most desperately need it.

I drag myself off the ground, look at them and ask, "What are we going to do now?"  
"I don't know," Peeta replies.

"Peeta," Katniss says, I can tell she has an idea. "Do we still have the nightlock?"

"I think so, but are you suggesting that we," his voice trails off in disbelief.

"Wait," I interrupt. "What's nightlock?"

"They're poisonous berries," Katniss explains. "Peeta and I can eat them and then you can go home, I couldn't bear to leave him."

"No I can't let you do that," I protest. "You two are the only ones who know exactly what I've gone through, I couldn't go back without you."

"Then all of us, together," Peeta suggests.

"Together," I repeat. Katniss pours some of the berries into our palms.

It's then, when I am holding the berries, that finally everything that I've been told makes perfect sense. I can do something important. I can start something monumental.

The Capitol wants us to kill each other, but not only to rip away our hope, but to rip way the hope of everyone. The people in the Districts who have been hoping for change; the people who have been praying for a rebellion; it's for them. If all three of us kill ourselves the rebels rage will boil over. It will be a start of something huge. With my final breath I can start a rebellion.

I don't know if the others know this yet, but I do. And with this revelation my motives change instantly. I will take my life and bring the Capitol down with me.

"On three," Katniss states. "One."

"Two," Peeta says.

"Three," I almost whisper, and with full awareness and comprehension of what I'm doing, I place the berries on my tongue.

"Ladies and gentlemen I present to you the victors of the 74th Hunger Games: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, and Claire Moore!" the voice announces. I spit the nightlock out of my mouth instantly.

"Did either of you swallow?" I inquire.

"No," they answer in unison. Relief floods through me. We smile stupidly at each other. We have won, and even if they don't know it we have started a revolution that could change our entire world.

A Capitol helicopter appears over the horizon. Once it is directly over us we are frozen. Trapped in invisible bindings, we are lifted into the aircraft. As I enter the metallic room I sigh. All of that is now behind me. I am finally safe, but a new danger is sure to come.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Just to let you all know I am thinking of writing a sequel to this story, and I really would like it if you told me what you think about that. I have some good ideas but I'm still on the fence about actually writing it down, so if you told me what I should do that would be helpful.**

I wake up in a sterile hospital room. There are tubes that connect me to different machines. I am alone. Worry spreads through me when I realize that I don't know what I'll do anymore. When I get back to District 12 I will no longer have to look after the orphans. I will never have to work another day in my life. I don't know what I have to live for anymore.

But I will not give up. I will do something to make Thresh proud. I will avenge his death. How, I don't know but somehow I will.

"Claire," a voice calls from across the room. I turn over and see Cynthia.

"Cynthia," I call back. She runs over to greet me.

"I'm so sorry about Thresh," she says.

"I could've saved him," I reply.

"He wouldn't have wanted to come back without you," she explains. "He really did love you."

"I just don't know what to do now," I sigh.

"You'll find something," assures Cynthia.

"Thanks."

"Oh, I have something for you," she presses a small metal object into my hand. It's my dolphin ring. I had forgotten about it, glancing down at my hand I saw that I still wore Thresh's ring.

"I made sure to get it for you, I thought it would help you remember him," she explains.

"Thank you," I say and slide the rind on top on Thresh's. "But even if you hadn't I could never forget him."

"So do you want to get up?" she proposes.

"Sure."

Cynthia calls over an orderly who removes the tubes I'm attached to and Cynthia and I walk through the hallways.

"So what outfits have you made for me now?" I ask,

"You'll see," she smirks. I hope to stay in touch with her after I return home. She's been a friend to me though out this whole ordeal and I hope that one day I get to repay her.

Tonight I will be interviewed by Caesar Filckerman again. Cynthia leads me back to the white walled room where I first was transformed in to The Woman of Death.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to deal with them again," she jokes. The _them_ she was referring to are my ridiculously obnoxious prep team.

"Hey I survived the Hunger Games I can get through this," I laugh back. As expected the team is all a twitter when they arrive. They squeal about how excited they are that I have won. That they knew I would win and all of that garbage. I grin and bear it until they begin to talk about Thresh. I break when one of them says that he understands why I didn't save him.

CRACK! I punch him and break his jaw.

"I tried to save him you fucking bastard," I growl through my teeth. "You have no fucking clue what we went through you son of a bitch!"

"Get out!" Cynthia storms into the room and shouts.

"But she broke his jaw!" one of them protests.

"I'm sure she did and I am equally certain that he deserved it, now get out," Cynthia demands. Grudgingly, they leave.

"He said I didn't try to save Thresh," I begin to cry.

"Hey, hey, hey, Claire, you did everything that you could. Don't listen to him," she comforts me.

"So you're not mad?" I ask.

"Claire, I would've done the same thing, except maybe I'd have slugged him harder," Cynthia assures me. I laugh.

"So what do you have for me tonight?" I inquire.

"This," she pulls out a silky, white dress. It has sleeves that look as though they've been made from the skeletons of old flowers. The skirt is made of piles of thin material.

"It's beautiful," I exclaim when she puts me in front of the mirror.

"You're beautiful," she corrects me.

"I thought you said beauty was overrated?"

"It is, but that doesn't mean you never can be beautiful."

My hair has been pulled up and to the side of my face. My makeup is subtle, but accents and softens my features. The dress hugs my shoulders and torso, but cascades out down my legs.

I wish Thresh could have seen me like this. More than anything I wish Thresh was standing next to me. I wipe a few tears that escape from me and turn to Cynthia.

"So am I still Death?" I ask.

"Forgive me for answering a question with a question, but do you look like death?" she replies.

"No, I look like…oh my god," I gasp.

"A bride," Cynthia finishes my sentence. "It's the wedding dress you never got to have."

"This is…thank you," I cannot describe how I feel right now.

"You're welcome, now go on down there are rip their hearts out," she says.

"They have hearts?" I ask sarcastically.

"No, but you get my point," she replies. By the time I get down there Katniss has finished her interview and Peeta's is almost over.

"And last but certainly not least," announces Caesar. "Panem, I present to you Claire Moore, The Woman of Death."

I walk out on stage and the crowd grows quiet. I am not the Claire that they knew before. I don't smile; I simply sit down in the chair and wait.

"Claire, tell us, what was it like to be in the Hunger Games?" Caesar asks.

"You're seriously asking me what it was like to be in a confined space with over twenty people who were hell bent on killing me?" I retort. "But if you still insist on an answer it was cruel."

"And what do you mean by cruel?"

"I mean it was brutal and awful and I hated it," I clarify.

"As we've all seen it wasn't completely horrible," Casesar hints, "What about the tribute from District 11."

"Thresh," I correct him. "His name was Thresh."

"Yes, and what was he like?" he inquires.

"He was wonderful; he kept me sane in that hell hole. If it weren't for him I wouldn't be here today, and I still wish he was here instead of me. Thresh meant everything to me," I answer.

"So Claire, one of my favorite parts of the Games was when you and Thresh married, tell us what made you do that?"

"As I said Thresh was my world at that point. We had absolutely nothing to lose, he was my soul mate and I loved him," I explain. "When you love someone that much why wouldn't you?"

"On that subject, I see your stylist has dressed you in a wedding gown. I'm sure everyone else has this question as well, but are we going to be seeing The Woman of Death anytime soon?"

"I don't know, I'm not even sure who I am anymore," I admit.

"And one last question before our time is up," he says. "What are you going to name the baby?"

"The what?!" I exclaim.

**BONUS AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes I went there!**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

**I didn't think that anyone would guess that Claire was pregnant and was going to start referring to myself as The Queen of Surprises, but then EmmaMellark97 said she knew and my hopes and dreams were destroyed. **

**Any who, as you all might've guessed we're reaching the final stretch of the story, but I am still debating writing a sequel, but I'm still not sure if that is a good idea. So if you think it is tell me in the reviews. Enjoy chapter nineteen.**

"The baby," Caesar repeats. "Did no one tell you that you're pregnant?"

"Oh god," I whisper. Pregnant? I hadn't even thought about this when Thresh and I slept together. Pregnant, I keep repeating the word in my head. It can't be true. They must have made a mistake. How could I be pregnant?

"No, no one told me," I manage to say.

"Well, we'll leave you time to think about the name then," Caesar smiles at me. "Ladies and gentlemen the final victor of the 74th Hunger Games: Claire Moore!"

After I am off the stage I bolt. I don't know where I'm going, but I have to leave. I run until I find the room where Thresh and I would sneak away to. Throwing myself onto the bed I cry into the pillow.

Thresh, he never even knew about the child. He'll never get to be a father. And the baby, it will never get to meet its father. I want to disappear, but for the first time ever I am in the center of attention.

I wanted this though. I wanted to be noticed, but not like this. I do not want to be the weak widow, nor do I want to be the Woman of Death, and I don't want to be the pathetic mother. I want to be remembered as exactly who I am; Claire Moore: the girl who brought life out of death, the girl who found love in the most desperate of places. I want to be the forgotten tribute again, the one who the Capitol ignored.

But that is not who I have become. I have become something for the Capitol to ogle at, and I won't stand for it. Thresh did not die for me to become a useless piece of their Games.

I think back to the berries. If I could start something without any planning or forethought, imagine what I could do when I have. There are rebels out there, I know it and anyone who thinks otherwise is fooling themselves. I will find one and join. I will bring the Capitol down. I will end the Hunger Games. I will not let my child go through the things I endured.

"Claire?" someone knocks on the door.

"Yes," I call back while wiping my tears off. It's Cynthia.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Not really," I reply pathetically. "I'm just confused."

"Are you going to keep the baby?" inquires Cynthia.

"Yes, it's the only part of Thresh that I have left," I answer.

"Good, he'd be glad," she comments and pulls me into a motherly embrace. "It's going to be okay."

"I'm having a hard time believing that that's true," I sigh.

"Nothing lasts forever, these times will pass," she explains.

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

I sit in the room for hours after Cynthia leaves. I spread my hand over the soft covers. Not a month ago I had laid here with Thresh. This room, it held so many memories for me: our first kiss, the first time he told me he loved me, and so much more. What I wouldn't give to have him back.

In an attempt to fully accept the fact that I am pregnant I place my hands on my abdomen. It's just as flat as it's ever been, but somewhere inside it Thresh's child is growing. It brings me back to the time when he told me that he wanted a family. A name. Thresh had once told me a name. I look down at my hands and it comes to me.

"Iris."

Slowly, I lift myself off the bed and walk back to my actual room. It hasn't changed since I last saw it. I walk into the shower while slipping out of my dress. I let the hot water beat down on me. It washes off my tears and torture and makes them slide down the drain.

I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my chest, and I am finally able to breathe. For hours I let the water wash everything away. At one point I sit down and let the water cascade down my spine.

When I finally turn off the water I walk straight to my bed and drape the covers over me. The warm blankets cocoon me in warmth and I drift off to sleep.

I wake in the morning knowing that I have nothing to do today. Our final interviews are tomorrow and then we will be able to go back to District 12. This leaves me with twenty-four hours of time to worry and dwell on the Games. I can't do that.

Throwing on some comfortable clothing I leave my room and walk to the elevator. No one else is up so there's no one to stop me. I punch the button labeled with a T for the Training Floor. When the elevator doors open I sprint out of it. Thankfully, the Capitol has left everything on the floor exactly where it was before, including the weapons.

I have no intention of killing someone or trying to escape. I just have to do something, and for who knows how long this had been my way of coping. Angrily, I snatch a sling of knifes off a table and drape it over my shoulder.

As I throw the knives at the targets, I scream. I put all of my frustration and hate into the throws. Every time I hear the thud of one of them hitting the target I feel better. When my supply of daggers has run out I have gone completely insane. I lean against a stack of mats and relax.

I don't cry or scream. I just sit. I don't think or speak. I just sit, and eventually someone comes in and sits with me.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**Holy crap! Twenty chapters! I never thought I'd be able to write all of this in less than a month! Once again I just want to thank you all for putting up with my weird writing habits. Speaking of writing no one has told whether or not I should do a sequel, but I think I'm leaning towards the idea of doing it so keep your eyes peeled.**

"What are you doing here, Miss Claire?" Haymitch asks.

"Nothing," I say.

"The destroyed target says otherwise," Haymitch points out.

"I got angry," I reply.

"Considering what you've been through that's normal," he says.

"Is there a point to you being here?" I snap.

"Actually there is," he answers. "I came here to tell you something."

"What's that?" I inquire while using the tip of my knife to clean under my fingernails.

"I wanted to tell you that what you did in the Games was brave, and that you remind me a lot of a younger version of myself," he states.

"How?"

"Both of us were not favorites, no one thought we could win. But we did win and in doing so we both out smarted the Capitol," explains Haymitch.

"Really? You outsmarted the Capitol?" I ask.

"What that shocks you?" he repeats what I told him before the Games. "I used the force field around the arena to kill the final tribute. It was quite clever actually."

"You know don't you?" I say.

"Know what? That you took the berries as a rebellious act and not because you couldn't live without the two," he states. "If that's what you're talking about then, yes, I know."

"Does anyone else?" I inquire.

"Cynthia, I think, but she won't tell anyone," he explains.

"Good."

"When we get back to 12 come see me," he says. "I've got some things to discuss with you."  
"Alright," I agree.

"And one last thing Miss Claire, Thresh wouldn't blame you," he assures me. After he leaves I wait a few minutes before walking away.

To kill time I find myself meandering around the countless hallways of the Training Center. I start to think about what I'll do when I get back to District 12. Going down into the mines isn't an option. I could create some kind of business, but I'll have all the money I could ever want. The baby will be the only thing that will keep me busy, and hopefully sane.

The one good thing about winning the Games is that I can finally do something to really help the Home. With all of my money I can get them more food, clean clothes and bedding, and better living conditions in general. Maybe I could even bribe the wardens to stop being so cruel.

Eventually, I find myself back on the twelfth floor. Katniss and Peeta are curled up on the couch. Not wanting to disturb them, I quietly turn around and leave. Continuing my search for something to do I run into Cynthia.

"Hello Claire," she says.

"Hey."

"You look bored," she comments. "Come on, I want to show you something."

She leads me into one of the many rooms in the Training Center. Inside there are hundreds of dresses; hanging on hooks, laid over chairs, and even a few scattered around the floor.

"Wow."

"They're all my designs," she tells me.

"Really?" I ask.

"It's actually not that impressive, compared to Cinna," she replies. "I was just wondering if you wanted to pick out the one that you wear for your final interview."

"I'd love to," I answer.

"And if there's some other things that you like I can send them back to you in 12," she adds.

"Thank you!" I exclaim. Getting dressed up in all of these different outfits reminds me of when I was twelve and tried on my first Reaping dress. All of the older girls come around and helped me pick one out and did my hair. They made it feel like we were just having fun instead of getting dressed up for our doom.

Cynthia and I try on all of the dresses. There are so many of them: feathered ones, silk ones, lacey dresses, long and short, slim and poofy, and all of them different colors. Cynthia and I laugh and talk while we try them on.

She tells me about what growing up in the Capitol was like, and I tell her about the Home.

"So are you and Cinna always so competitive?" I ask.

"Yep," she replies. "We're actually twins, and as he puts it, he beat me out then and he's beaten me ever since."

"Did you ever win against him?" I inquire.

"Once when I was nine I finished a puzzle before him, and I creamed him this year with your outfit for the Parade of Tribute," explains Cynthia.

"Why do you still compete then?"

"His lucky streak has to end at some point, and I will be there when it does."

"You're very persistent," I comment.

"Thank you," she says. "I've been meaning to ask you, in your interview you talked about a boy called Logan, who's he?"

"Well," I begin. "He and I were both raised at the Home since birth. He's been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We take care of the kids back home, and that's just about it. Like I told Caesar there is nothing romantic between us and there never will be."

"He sounds nice. Maybe when I come to your house before the Victory Tour I can meet him," she suggests. That's how it is for the rest of the day. It helps take the pressure and worry of tomorrow off.

By the end of the day we have exhausted her supply of dresses, and I have my next interview dress picked out. I also have selected some clothes to send back to the girls at the Home.

As I lay down in my bed that night, for the first time in ages, I feel calm. I know that I have friends that will help me get through this and that I'm not alone. I close my eyes to fall asleep and just as they shut panic rushes through me.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**So I have decided that I will write a sequel the title will be The Forgotten Victor, but obviously it will not be out until this story is over. I will give you guys notice when it is out. I am super excited to write it because I have some great ideas for it, but I just hope that they won't make you hate me. But until then I hope you enjoy The Forgotten Tribute.**

Panic, I am in complete and utter panic. The nightmares started the minute I closed my eyes. Images of Thresh and the other dead tributes flash before my eyes. Bolting upright I scream bloody murder. Curling up into the fetal position I begin to rock back and forth.

Peeta and Katniss are the first ones into my room.

"What's wrong?" Peeta asks. I can't answer I just continue to sob. Peeta moves over to me and wraps his arm around me.

"It's not real," he assures me. "Nothing is going to hurt you."

I am practically hyperventilating at this point. Katniss reaches out and holds my hand, which is extremely unlike her. After a while I calm down.

"Thank you," I say.

"It's fine," Peeta smiles at me before he and Katniss leave. I don't even attempt to go back to sleep. My night is spent pacing around that room until the sun comes out.

For the first time I am anxious for my prep team to get here. It will take them almost the entire day to get me ready and that will provide me with something to occupy my time with.

They arrive within minutes of sunrise, all of them look exhausted. For the most part I cooperate with them. They pluck at my body, soak me in numerous baths with all kinds of oils and soaps, paint my face and nails, and style my hair.

By the time Cynthia arrives to take over it's almost four in the afternoon.

"You all can go," Cynthia waves the team off.

She pulls out a dress bag and reveals the light blue dress inside it, "This is the dress you wanted, right?"

"Yes," I reply while taking the dress.

Once I'm dressed I gaze at my reflection. The dress fans out around my waist and continues to the floor. A small blue sweater covers my shoulders, and is tied around me with a ribbon. My hair is partially pulled back, so everyone can see my face.

"Gorgeous as always," I say.

"Clothes are clothes, you're the one that makes them beautiful," she comments.

"I'm just not sure if I can do this tonight," I'm referring to having to watch a recap of the games. That means I will have to relive those horrible and wonderful moments that I would just as soon forget.

"Yes, you can," Cynthia protests. "You're not going to be alone out there. Katniss and Peeta will be right by your side, and I'll be in the front row."

"I know, I'm just scared," I admit.

"It'll be fine," she assures me, and with a reassuring hug we go down. The stage has been transformed. The atmosphere looks almost friendly. The chairs have been replaced with one loveseat and two lonely chairs, all of them a light shade of yellow or orange. A huge television has been placed on the side of the stage where the recap of the Games will be broadcasted.

Soon Katniss and Peeta come down. Katniss is wearing a yellow dress, and Peeta a navy blue suit.

"Are you ready?" I ask weakly.

"No," they reply in unison.

"Neither am I," I practically whisper. Caeasar Flickerman struts out on stage and the audience cheers. Taking a deep breath the three of us enter the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen the victors of the 74th Hunger Games: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, and Claire Moore!"

Katniss and Peeta smile like the lovebirds they are and I to walk out somberly. Caesar directs us to our seats; Katniss and Peeta share the loveseat and I am alone in one of the lounge chairs. I sit down stiffly dreading what is to come.

"Now you are about to watch the Games that the three of you have survived, how are you all feeling?" Caesar inquires.

"Petrified," I state.

"And you two?" he turns to Peeta and Katniss.

"Same," they agree.

"Well, we're all here for you," Caesar tries to comfort us. It doesn't work. "And without further ado play the video!"

The gigantic screen blazes to life, and the anthem blares. It begins with our Reapings. Katniss' little sister is chosen and the heartbreaking scene ensues. Peeta is Reaped with little to no reaction. My name is pulled and a hush falls over the crowd; the only sound I hear the occasional sob from one of the Home's children.

Cut to our magnificent appearances in the Parade of Tributes. Katniss and Peeta set ablaze with the fire concocted by Cinna. When my entrance is replayed I am in awe of it. The woman I see riding out is not me, there is no possible way it could be me. But yet it is.

The scene changes to snippets from our interviews. The only part that gets a good play is Peeta confession of love for Katniss. A brief snapshot of Katniss spinning on fire, and clips of me making sarcastic jokes are the only parts shown on the two of us.

Dread. That is what I feel when the screen displays our very first moments in the arena. So many shots of the bloodbath play. The camera focuses in on Thresh and me running to safety. I ball my hands into fists and beg myself not to cry, but I can still feel the tears welling up behind my eyes.

Shots of Katniss running, Peeta with the Careers, and Thresh and me fishing play next. Me murdering the boy is given close attention. I see the anger in my eyes as I throw the knife at him. Anger at him for attempting to harm Thresh.

An unfamiliar sight plays next. Katniss is trapped up in a tree by the Careers. They taunt her. The screen cuts to nighttime as Katniss is sawing off a branch that contains of hive of tracker jackers. At least one of the Careers in killed in this grotesque attack.

Then back to Thresh and me. This time we are kissing in the cave. For the first time I see the care and love in his face as he kisses me. This time I do cry. I don't even try to stop the tears from coming.

Just as I think it couldn't get any worse, they play the scenes where I go off into the forest. The fight between me and the boy is fully played. I see myself stagger off and collapse on a rock; passed out cover in my own blood. Thresh saving me, nursing me back to life, caring for my every need that is what is next.

Thankfully, they take a break from Thresh and me and focus on Katniss and Rue's alliance. The two of them talk and laugh and it breaks your heart. Fast forward to when Katniss blows up the Career's supplies.

The explosion fades out and the sight of Rue being speared is next. I almost am sick just watching it. Seeing that little girl dying is almost too much to bear. Katniss sings to her while Rue fades away, and then places flowers around her corpse.

Next is the event in which Peeta is stabbed and left for dead by the Careers. He disguises himself into his surroundings, and he disappears.

Before we see more of him the video goes back to me. This time it displays when Thresh and I get married. I lose it. I cry and sob into my hands. The act was completely symbolic and impulsive, but to me it made us real. It made all the difference to me, and I can barely hang on right now.

Caesar reaches out and lays his hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me, but it does nothing but enhance my rage. He doesn't know what this is like. No one knows. No one can even attempt to understand what this is like, how I feel. I shrug his hand off and the presentation continues.

Images of Katniss caring for Peeta play. She feeds him just as Thresh fed me. She tends to his wounds, like Thresh did mine. I see parallels in their story and mine. All of us thrown into the same circumstances, but ending in completely contrasting ways.

The image shifts again, this time to my sickness. Then the feast. Clove's death; Thresh sparing Katniss' life. Katniss healing Peeta; Thresh healing me. It all goes by so fast. I want to cherish these moments and cast them aside at the same time. I need to remember the good times, but that also means recalling the bad. I'm trapped.

The moment that I have been dreading finally comes. Thresh is impaled and this time I scream aloud. Both Thresh's murder and my reaction from the bushes are shown. I see myself running to him and begging him to stay with me.

_ "Thresh stay with me."_

_ "Claire."_

Our final moments are played.

_"Thresh please, you can't leave me."_

_ "Claire, it's not going to work."_

Our final requests are displayed.

_"No Thresh, I need you, please. I love you"_

_ "I love you too."_

Our final confessions cast.

_"Please, Thresh, please, you can make it."_

_ "Claire, you are my soul mate."_

Our final words said.

My screaming both on and off screen is traumatic. I practically shake with having to relive that moment; the moment where everything changed. I start to have a panic attack, I want to run off, but I know that is not allowed.

I allow myself five minutes. Five minutes to let it all out. At the end I begin to compose myself. The worst is over, the rest I can handle. I still hiccup, but other than that and the occasional shallow breath, I am managing.

Now we have reached the end. I join Katniss and Peeta. The mutts. The Cornucopia. Cato's death. I see myself holding him from the scruff of his shirt. Catching him just to plunge my knife into him and throw him into the vicious and unforgiving jaws of the muttations.

We have now reached to culmination of the Games. The three of us standing at the base of the Cornucopia waiting for the announcement that won't come. The rule change is spoken and Katniss pulls out the berries.

Even though we all know what happens, everyone holds their breath. We raise our hands to place the berries into our mouths and our victory is immediately proclaimed. A collective sigh is released and the screen fades to black.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**So we're reaching the end. I have loved writing this so much and cannot wait to begin the sequel! And fair warning I did not edit this because I'm tired and still have a lot of other things to do so let's just pretend that I edited, alright?**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

I sit on the edge of my bed, refusing to go back to sleep for I know the moment I do I will be plagued with more terrible nightmares. Tomorrow, for the first time in almost two months, I will be going home. That thought is what keeps me going.

Maybe when I get home things will be better. I know nothing can go back to how it used to be, but I won't have to go through it alone.

Still refusing to give in to sleep I shower, pace, hum, and do anything that will distract me. Morning is a relief. Effie knocks on the door demanding that I get dressed and be out in fifteen minutes. I pull out a simple dress and boots, and walk out the door still brushing my hair.

Cynthia and Cinna are waiting for us when I walk out.

"Good morning," I say groggily.

"Morning," they reply.

"Here to say goodbye?" I ask Cynthia.

"Yes," she answers and pulls me into a hug. "If you ever need someone to talk to you can call me."

"Thanks," I shove the small piece of paper she handed me into my pocket. The three of us talk casually until Peeta and Katniss emerge. Saying final goodbyes to everyone Effie hurries us into the train.

At one point I find myself sitting alone on the couch where we watched the recaps of the Reapings. Staring down at my hands I twist Thresh's and my rings. For a moment I imagine that he's here sitting next to me. I tell him everything that I wish I could, "We're going to have a child. I really wish she could see her father. It should have been me, I know you didn't want that, but it really should have been me. Please forgive me…"

I know that this is how he wanted it to be. This was what he had planned from the moment he fell in love with me. He made sure that I would live and that he would die. He could've killed Cato, I know he could. If he did only Katniss, Peeta, he and I would be left. He knew I couldn't kill the two and that I wouldn't want him to either. It's almost as if he planned his death, knowing that I would be able to handle Cato with the help of the other two. He believed in me more than I did. Doing what he did, knowing what I know now, he is the bravest man I will ever have to honor of meeting.

A slamming door interrupts my thoughts.

"Peeta wait!" exclaims Katniss. Peeta continues moving, not giving her any notice. Katniss is about to go after him, but I stop her.

"Okay, what's going on?" I ask.

"Now is not the time," she protests.

"No, it is. If you go after him you're just going to make things worse, now tell me," I say.

"Fine," she takes me to her bedroom to explain what happened. "Peeta and I were talking, and I told him that I thought that the star crossed lovers thing was just a way to get more sponsors. But apparently for him, it wasn't."

"And what about you?" I inquire. "What was it for you?"

"I don't know. I thought I knew, but sometimes I just can't tell if what I feel is real or if it's just an act," she explains.

"I get that," I confirm. "But before you talk to him again, you really need to figure this out."

"How will I be able to know?" she demands. "This is all new to me, how am I going to know what I feel?"

"Believe, Katniss, you will know."

"But how?"

"I can't explain it," I say apologetically. "There's just a time when you just know, and it's indescribable."

I leave to let her think, I know that Katniss likes to be alone, well at least she used to, since the Games everything about us has changed. Walking through the train, I eventually find Peeta gazing out a window.

"Go away," he demands.

"No," I protest.

"Dammit Claire! Leave me alone, I'm fine!" insists Peeta.

"Peeta, you are anything but fine. Just let me talk to you," I say.

"What do you want?" he pouts.

"Just talk to me, tell me what happened. Maybe I can help," I propose.

"How could you help?"

"I've spent a good part of my life listening to teenagers tell me about their problems, I'm practically a shrink," I answer and he laughs. Good, a laugh, I'm getting somewhere.

"Fine, I'll tell you. I was talking to Katniss and she tells me that she doesn't love me, that it was all an act. And if that wasn't enough she expects me to be okay with it! I loved her, I still do, and she didn't even have the decency to see that!" by the end of his rant he's crying.

"Peeta, I just talked to her, and she doesn't even know how she feels. Katniss grew up with one thing on her mind, and that was to protect her family. She never thought of anything else, ever. I know it may be hard, but you really need to cut her some slack, she has no clue how to act in this type of situation. She just doesn't know what to do or what to feel. And she really feels awful," I explain.

"I know, but it doesn't make me feel any better," he grumbles.

"I never said it would. Of course this is going to hurt, but you needed to hear it," I say. "Just please, give Katniss some time to figure this out."

"Alright," agrees Peeta. Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze I leave.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**There's only one more chapter after this. Thank you for sticking with this story for so long. I love all of you guys, and I hope that you will read the sequel when it comes out, but for now please review, favorite, and most of all enjoy!**

Pulling into the train station in District 12, I feel a strange mixture of please, pain, and most of all anxiety. Out there is everything that I've ever known. Out there is my old life. What will my new life be? I stress about this until Effie drags us off the train.

We step out into the daylight. People are screaming and chanting our names. Cameras from the Capitol flash. Ten feet in front of me stands Logan. Without thinking I run up to him and throw my arms around him. I cry into his shoulder and he into mine.

"I missed you so much," I whisper.

"So did I," he replies. "I'm so sorry, Claire."

"Thank you," I say.

"You put up one hell of a fight, I knew you could."

Finally we part. The Capitol reporters ask me a few questions before I am lead to my new home in the Victor's Village.

The house is white and huge. It stands at least two stories tall. As I walk inside I see that most of the walls are white and the furniture a light tope. I'm all alone in this huge place. There are multiple bedrooms and bathrooms just for me, while the kids at the Home have one of each to share with hundreds of children.

The thought of being alone here is terrifying to me. I run out of the house and back to the Home. Inside the children scream and cheer and cry. I quickly acknowledge them and hurry into my attic. Just as I suspected Logan is sitting there waiting.

"I knew you'd be here," I say.

"I knew you'd come back," he smirks. "So is it true?"

"Is what true?" I ask.

"That you're pregnant," Logan states.

"It's true," I confirm.

"Oh my god," he whispers. "Just so you know they did not show you and Thresh _doing it_."

"I don't think you could have worded that any more eloquently," I joke. "Wait, you said his name. You knew his name."

"I did, you said it quite a lot during the Games," he clarifies.

"Do you think what I did was right? You know, falling in love with him, and being with him?" I inquire.

"Were you actually in love with him?" he asks.

"Of course I was! How could you even suggest-" I yell.

"Then absolutely, you did the right thing," he confirms.

"Sorry, I yelled."

"No it's fine."

"So what did I miss when I was gone?"

"Lorretta turned fifteen. I got a black-eye and it healed. And since I turn nineteen next week, I'm required to move out as soon as possible," Logan informs me.

"I know where you can go," I say.

"Where?"

"You can move in with me," I propose. "I can't stay in that place alone, and I thought that since you're like my brother, you'd stay with me. You'd actually be doing me a favor by doing it."

"I can? Really?" he exclaims.

"Absolutely," I answer.

"Then I'm going home with you," he replies. We pack up all of our old stuff, say goodbye to the kids, and walk back to the Victor's Village.

"Whoa," Logan says as he walks in.

"I know it's gigantic," I agree. "And boring."

"With all of your money that can be easily fixed," he adds. We unload our things into two bedrooms that are connected by a door. I insisted that he take the adjoining bedroom so he could wake me up when I started having nightmares.

Knowing that he was going to be there for me all the time made me feel like I would actually be able to get beyond this. There were so many things that I could do now, but I knew that there was something I needed to take care of before anything else.

I hiked out to the lake where I'd fished so many times before. Sitting by the water's edge I think of Thresh once again. I think of his smile, his laugh, his arms around me, and his lips on mine. I close my eyes and imagine that he is here, right next to me.

"I know what you did. I know that you sacrificed yourself for me. I know how much you loved me," I state. "I will never forget that, but I have to let you go. I will never forget you, but I have to move on. I love you so much, but I have to say goodbye now. I'm going to miss you."

I pick one of the lilies growing beside me, and place it in the water. As it floats away I say 'goodbye' to Thresh for the last time.


	24. EPILOGUE

Epilogue

**Rated M for violence, language, and sexual situations.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only characters that I own are Claire Moore, Logan Smith and the other characters that weren't in the original Hunger Games. All other characters belong to Susan Collins.**

**This is it. The final chapter, it's short but most epilogues are. I'm sad that it's finished, but happy because I can work on the sequel. You all have been so supportive of me and that means a lot to me it really does. After 24 chapters, ninety-two pages, and 28,634 words The Forgotten Tribute is over. (Holy crap that was dramatic)**

I walk down the streets of District 12, leaves crunching underneath my boots. It's been almost two months since I came home from the Games. I'm still plagued with nightmares, but they've become less and less frequent.

I wrap my coat around me tighter, blocking out the nip in the autumn air. Haymitch had instructed me to go to a warehouse today, to finally discuss what he had hinted at after the Games.

When I reach the old warehouse I knock three times, then two, then six; it was also something Haymitch had instructed me to do. The door opens, just a crack, and someone looks out at me.

"Name," demands the person.

"Claire Moore."

"Who sent you here?" they ask.

"Haymitch Abernathy," I answer. The door closes and I hear the sound of numerous chains being unhooked. The door then fully opens for me and I walk inside.

Inside the warehouse sit many familiar people. Some of them I recognize as people from the Capitol, others are past victors, but the one who surprises me the most is Logan.

"Logan?" I gasp.

"Hello," he says meekly.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"We were waiting for you," states Logan.

"Now that I'm here, is someone going to explain what is happening?" I inquire.

"Well, Miss Claire," Haymitch stands up and meanders over to me. "We all know that you eating the berries was a rebellious act against the Capitol, and it was just the spark that we've been waiting for. Now we're going to act, and soon too."

"I still don't understand what all of you want from me," I say.

"What we're saying is," Haymitch takes a deep breath before finishing. "Welcome to the rebellion."

**THE END**


	25. ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT THE SEQUEL

**THE FORGOTTEN VICTOR IS UP AND RUNNING! **

Yes the first chapter of the sequel to the Forgotten Tribute is up. The first chapter is not my best in some parts, but there was some setting up I had to do. I have some plans for the story and I really think you're gonna like 'em! So if you are disappointed with the first chapter, the chapters I have in store are going to be fucking awesome. I'm making the first chapter sound really bad, but it's not at all, it's just that I am never pleased with anything that I write…at all. Which is why I like your reviews.

But you don't want to listen to my rambles so here is the link to The Forgotten Victor! I plan on making future chapters disturbing ;)

s/8515188/1/


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